


Remnants of Solitude

by paxnirvana



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-25
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxnirvana/pseuds/paxnirvana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kakashi on Medical Leave. And who gets to make sure he behaves? Iruka, of course.</p><p>Finally posted outside my flocked journal. -_-; Takes place sometime early during the time skip.  (Work in progress)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Darkness, red-tinted and dusty, surrounded him. Ominous. Familiar. Bitter. All his finely honed senses and instincts screamed at him. _Danger. Run. Hide._ But he could not. His body was stretched wide on a rough pillar; arms pinned, legs bound, defenses destroyed. Trapped in a way he had seldom been before. Rendered helpless. Secrets exposed. Stripped of all skills. He hated the feeling but could only wait breathlessly for the true nightmare yet to come.

Because it was _the_ dream again; the one he could never break free of once it took hold despite all his famed strength of will. Itachi's dream. He shuddered, wrenching himself against his bonds until blood flowed from cruel rope pressed tight against bare skin; fought to wake, to free himself, but still it held him tight in its merciless embrace. But he fought until he could only hang, limp, exhausted at last. Unwillingly resigned to the inevitable progression.

Fear curled up from his gut like a snake waking from slumber as he hung there, quested through his veins. Freezing him. Making him fall still. He gathered the last of his strength to him just to endure.

He had survived the reality once. But at a price heavy even by his own steep reckoning. If ever he fell into Itachi's hands again...

His waking mind suspected there were the remnants of jutsu involved. Like a virus lurking in his chakra. A terrible, lingering power granted by an equally terrible source; betrayal. But here, now, in the dream, only the coming torment mattered. Fed by memories of shame and loss and regrets of his own, fear burned through him like venom, paralyzing him, making him hang still against the ropes that dug cruelly deep into raw, torn limbs.

The whirling-eyed shade appeared before him. Watching. He struggled again, but was held fast. Helpless.

Held in the trap sprung through the selfless gift he had been given by the one he had failed utterly so long ago… _Sharingan._ As he thought of the eye that was his greatest strength and yet also his greatest weakness, the voice of his tormentor echoed through his mind with a dry hiss of contempt.

 _"All of space, all of time... everything is under my control..."_

Pain burst through him with the slow thrust of a sword-blade -- or simply the memory of such pain. They were one and the same here. His body arched high, pierced, impaled... metal through flesh… searing him...

 _"... you will feel these blades forever, barely suitable host for an Uchiha eye…"_

The blade was withdrawn. Agony rose with the sting of sand in a wound that never closed, leaking his lifeblood steadily onto the thirsty ground. Stubborn pride alone made him lift his head once more to face the next round of torment… and the one after. Each as inevitable as his own thundering heartbeat. Over and over and over again… forever…

He screamed there in the nothingness. Screamed until his throat was raw and the sound was swallowed up into the dusty red darkness. Unheard. Futile. And still he could not break free -- even knowing that _this_ dream was only a cruel trick of his own tortured mind.

A blade's edge flashed again in anticipation of the next thrust. One of thousands…

He tensed despite himself... bracing... trying futilely to deny it with every tattered shred of will… When into the nightmare came an alien, unexpected thing; a soft chuckle. The sound was light and warm and utterly wrong for this dark place. And in that moment the dusty nothingness around him flickered, the relentless, deadly blade wavered. Even as the chuckle faded into softly spoken words, the sound rippled through the foundation of his torment like the echo of a bell until the words took its place rich and powerful in their whimsical ordinariness. Speaking of insects transformed into hair clips and fizzling smoke-notes left in desk drawers.

There was silence for a moment and the shadow's blade glinted again as it was raised to strike once more. But then the laugh returned and the blade paused, rippling and blurring away until it was as insubstantial as shadow while foreign joy spread a yellow tint on the dusty waste, faint but growing stronger like the promise of some kind of dawn. His breath caught, body arching now in surprised hope instead of pain as he listened intently.

The dusty landscape itself began to shimmer around him, melting into pale gold as the voice continued, still tender and delighted. Conveying feelings that clearly did not belong in this nightmare; happiness, patience, compassion. Honest amusement. Laughter. His tormentor had never laughed at him before. Not even in that toneless, flat voice that haunted him by its very lifelessness… If Itachi could even laugh. Had _ever_ laughed. But if he did it would doubtless be a scathing, dark sound and nothing like this light sound of fond mirth.

He quivered on the pole he was bound to. Lifted his head this time not simply to dare the pain, but to seek the source of that unusual sound, gaze questing hard through the lightening haze, senses straining to pierce the nothingness beyond. Once-enveloping darkness melted away, slowly replaced by golden light. The hot wind of despair eased its sting against his narrowed eyes as he waited eagerly for the voice to continue.

At last there were more words. Low, amused, friendly. Speaking of nothing that surrounded him now. Speaking with patient exasperation of missed drills and incomplete lessons and assignment pages that bore the fold lines for birds and boxes and jumping frogs.

So ordinary. So mundane. Then the voice faded out. He waited in breathless silence until it crept back. Welcomed the sound of it trickling through his thoughts like the cooling promise of water in the parched waste of his nightmare… awakening his thirst for freedom, rather than simple endurance… spurring him to twist harder against his captivity…

Because it came from outside the dream… _outside_ … where life existed… where there was still hope… hope for him?

Hatake Kakashi woke suddenly and completely, relief to have the nightmare's grasp broken filling him. But years of training made him lay relaxed with his eyes closed as if still in deep slumber. Unwilling to reveal his return to consciousness even as his ears strained to catch a hint of what had awakened him. But the voice had gone silent. Perhaps it had simply been an illusion after all. A will-o-wisp of comfort. A new taunt from his twisted psyche; but one that was far less taxing than his usual dream-visitors, at least. There was no pained guilt attached to this voice. No blood-soaked regret. Yet, in the continuing silence, he was left with the conclusion that it was not real after all. There was disappointment then, sharper than pain. It startled him, even as he lay quietly, letting his body become familiar to him again.

He'd been unconscious for a while. At least a day. Perhaps longer. His joints were stiff, his muscles aching from disuse.

His thoughts were sluggish, his mind hazy. He'd overextended himself by using the Sharingan too much, of course. He recognized all the signs. The eye throbbed faintly in its socket and his chakra was dangerously low. It had clearly been far too soon after his release from the effects of Uchiha Itachi's terrible jutsu to first go chasing without orders after Naruto and Sasuke, then take on yet another urgent A-Rank mission for the Godaime upon his return as penance for disobeying her.

Gods, but he was tired.

Mission barely completed, he'd been lucky to make it back inside Konohagakure's patrol range before he collapsed. But since he had already recognized the scent of his own rooms, the feel of his own bedding beneath him, it was clear that someone from Konoha had found him somewhere in the forest and brought him back inside the city.

Asuma or Aoba maybe, or even Kurenai; at least he fervently hoped it was one of them. Owing Gai again for a rescue would chafe more than he cared to acknowledge. But regardless of who his initial rescuer had been, there was someone unfamiliar in his room with him right now, he knew. Simply a medical nin assigned by the Godaime to watch over him, perhaps, but it was clearly someone his senses had long ago decided was no threat -- even if he'd not yet identified them with his conscious mind.

He heard a sigh. Focused his concentration then, waiting for more clues. Finally he was rewarded by a soft shifting sound, a rub of skin against skin. "Ah, that girl," the voice he'd been listening for said, making his pulse jump. It was carefully hushed so as not to disturb a sleeper yet still loud enough that a touch of affectionate exasperation came clearly through. "Where _did_ she find another of those horrible purple pens to use on her copy book? I thought I confiscated them all..."

Male, young, but not too young, he identified, automatically building an impression. Dutiful. Responsible. The tone of the voice, even in whisper, was rich and modulated in the manner of someone who was well used to speaking before others. He heard a soft scratching sound - as of a pen on paper - and suddenly realized exactly who the Godaime had given the tedious duty of sitting guard over his passed-out body to...

Umino Iruka, Academy instructor. A teacher who maintained an unseemly interest in the well-being of genin who had long passed beyond his sphere of responsibility. Yet also a teacher whom the Sandaime had spent a great deal of time in conference with regarding those same genin while they were students. A bit of a pest with his concerns, as Asuma has said. Particularly for a man who was still a chuunin and showed no desire to become more.

Yet a chuunin who also happened to be Naruto's most precious Iruka-sensei.

He opened his eyes slowly - already aware that both his hitai-ate and his mask had been removed - and looked toward the source of the voice. The low table he'd put into storage months ago had been brought back out and set up between his futon and the tiny kitchen in the corner. Spread across the table's surface were several stacks of student copy books, scrolls and various piles of paper, as well as a neat row of pens, a tea pot and cup, and an empty take-out soup bowl with sticks laid neatly across the rim. The shaded lamp that burned in the middle of the table cast the only light in the room.

The man was correcting papers while he watched over him. A most efficient use of time, Kakashi noted with only a mild twinge, and doubtless the explanation for the low commentary that had invaded his dreams. The teacher's dark head was bent forward over an open copy book, his attention focused completely on his work. A lean hand propped a frowning chin up on a fist as the other hand suddenly made rapid marks in the book.

His return to consciousness had not yet been noticed. So he let his gaze wander freely, adding to his small store of impressions of the other man.

The scar over the bridge of the nose was unmistakable. As was the perfectly centered hitai-ate. And the neat, if bushy, ponytail formed high on the back of the head. But the smudge of ink on a lower lip certainly wasn't the norm. Nor was the casually unzipped vest. Despite himself, he found himself smiling slightly at the sight.

"Do you always talk to yourself while you work, Iruka-sensei?" he asked.

There was a shocked intake of breath, a hasty upward jerk of the lowered head and then he was staring straight into wide, startled eyes. They were brown eyes, he noted and remembered all at the same time. Dark like a moonless summer night sky in the scant light and just as deep... His thoughts whirled and he thought he heard the echo of impassioned words: _"Not caring about the fate of the ones I love… I'll break that idea of a shinobi!"_

"Kakashi-san! You're awake," the other man said, dropping his pen into the book and slipping out from behind the table to come toward the futon. "How do you feel?" One hand was reaching for a small dish with a cloth draped over it on the floor beside the table as the chuunin's attention was suddenly focused on him as utterly as it had been focused on the copy book before It was odd, the effect of those rich, expressive eyes on his weary mind -- so intense. And he hadn't heard the echo of Obito's voice in his waking mind in years… He shook himself mentally back to the moment as the other man neared.

He most definitely did not need to have his brow laved. He wasn't fevered; he was just exhausted. To his relief, he only had to narrow his gaze slightly for the chuunin to come to an abrupt halt, half kneeling by the futon, damp cloth already in hand. He quirked his lips slightly and noted how a faint blush bloomed high on the other man's cheeks even as their gazes remained locked.

So dark those eyes… so open at first… like the ones he remembered from long ago. Showing everything -- concern, astonishment, relief -- but now mirroring only polite concern, mild embarrassment, dutiful determination.

"I'm fine, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi said quietly into the odd, faintly charged moment. So very like a Uchiha eye before the Sharingan awoke, those eyes… "Do you always talk to yourself when you work?" he asked again.

The other flushed very faintly, but that calm gaze held steady. "Only when correcting schoolwork, jounin-sensei." He could read a hint of defensiveness in the other man's eyes, but no shame. "It helps me keep their work in perspective to remind myself of their personal quirks... and strengths."

"Aa. I see." He blinked both eyes slowly once, then just the left one again. Felt the steady drain of chakra that always fed it drop to a trickle as he did so. "I would like my hitai-ate returned, if you don't mind," he said quietly. The teacher was staring at him still, unmoving. Kakashi was well aware of the trance-like effect the sight of his Sharingan eye could have. It seemed this chuunin sensei was no exception. He cleared his throat after a moment and the other jumped slightly. With the eye closed now, Iruka managed to turn his gaze away at last. The man blushed brighter as he apparently became aware of what he had been doing, olive skin darkening until the pale scar over his nose and cheeks almost gleamed by contrast in the dim light.

"O-of course, Kakashi-san," Iruka murmured before rising to cross the room toward his desk. Kakashi lifted one hand to his own brow and knuckled the old scar there. For some reason, it had begun to throb in counterpoint to the eye beneath.

Iruka returned quickly with the headband. The chuunin knelt beside the futon, neatly and efficiently folded the cloth behind the metal plate into a pad, then extended it toward Kakashi with both hands. The blush had been subdued already, Kakashi noted – just in passing, of course.

When he reached for the hitai-ate, his fingertips brushed the other man's palm. They both jerked slightly at the contact. "Do you need assistance?" the chuunin said in a polite murmur, those dark eyes mostly masked by lowered lashes. Apparently to keep himself from staring again. Kakashi felt oddly deprived.

"No," he said, after lifting the headband out of the other man's hands. He didn't bother to tie it on, but only laid it across his face in it's familiar cocked position and tucked the long ends of cloth as securely beneath his head as he could. Since he was lying down, a knot would only get in the way. He felt a part of himself relax once the eye was covered again, even though he normally kept it closed behind the concealing cloth. Because he was still badly drained and even the risk of that slow flow of chakra was wearing him out. Truth to tell, even rubbing his eye and arranging the hitai-ate was becoming an effort.

Once done, he glanced at the other man to find him watching him still. The chuunin was sitting upright beside him nearly at attention, his hands braced flat on his thighs, expression neutral, the dark eyes barely visible behind lowered lashes. So polite and remote that he almost seemed unreal.

He couldn't resist a poke to see if his memory was more accurate than this apparent paragon of shinobi respect. "Are you here to give me my next mission?"

Immediately the dark eyes lifted to flash at him with distinct outrage while lean hands clenched into fists on thighs. "What?! Kakashi-san, you are in no condition to take on another mission!" the man said hotly. Ah. A more natural response from the chuunin, as he remembered. At last. The man seemed as easy to ruffle as a songbird. A most atypical shinobi… "Oh?" Kakashi said, finding himself grinning slightly for no readily apparent reason. "Tsunade-sama has decided to be merciful then."

"As if she has a choice," Iruka said with an annoyed snort and a sidelong frown, shifting on his knees slightly, but already calming as he apparently recognized that Kakashi had just been winding him up. Perceptive. Ah. And he seemed to take the teasing with good grace as well -- this time. There was a slightly wry twist to the other man's lips as he went on at least. "Hmph. Actually, you are quite drained. She's ordered you confined to your apartment for the next seven days to recover. She has also ordered us to tell you that she'll Seal you to a bed in the hospital if you give us any trouble: in the pediatric ward."

"Aa. A week then?" Kakashi said, lifting his brow high and frowning slightly. The pediatric ward threat was a cheap shot, but of a kind he fully expected from the Sannin healer. He remembered she could be vindictive that way. "Three more days rest and I'll be fine." A distinct exaggeration. He hadn't even been this drained after fighting Zabuza the first time and that had taken him nearly a week of recovery time. Granted, he'd managed to train his genin in tree-climbing during that time -- but this time he could feel that his chakra was far too low even to attempt something minor like that. He was as weak as a newborn child for the time being and all his finely-honed senses were screaming the dangers of his own vulnerability to him. The Godaime's orders meant that even though he was now conscious and would far prefer to nurse his recovery in isolation, that he would instead have company staying in his apartment for the duration of her prescribed week. Ah. Tsunade knew him too well after all. "Three days and you can go back to your classes again, Iruka-sensei," he assured the other man with a cool smile.

"Seven, Kakashi-san." The normally relaxed mouth thinned with determination as the other man jabbed a finger toward him rudely in emphasis. "The Godaime said your chakra is still dangerously depleted, enough that even attempting the most minor jutsu could very well kill you." Iruka fixed him with a sharp teacher-stare that nearly made him wince. "She told us all to be wary of you trying to trick us into thinking you were recovered and not to let you move unnecessarily until she personally cleared you." Iruka frowned darkly at him and for a brief moment Kakashi felt like Iruka's student's must; deeply ashamed of failing their teacher's expectations. But then he grimaced slightly, mentally applauding the other's skill. Nearly jutsu-grade guilt, that, loaded into such a simple statement. He mulled it over for a moment, then decided to try a different tact.

"Us?"

"Er, yes," Iruka said in a flat but far more normal tone. "Izumo-kun and Kotetsu-kun are here during the daytime."

Kakashi dimly recognized the names of two chuunin normally attached to the Hokage's office. Then he frowned faintly. They weren't medical nin either. Which meant the hospital was likely overloaded with more seriously injured shinobi. Not a happy realization to have. But he was jounin and an important asset to Konoha, thus why he rated watchers even outside the hospital. Important only to Konoha, of course… "How late is it?" he asked, brushing the surprisingly bleak, if not unfamiliar, thought away and letting his gaze roam through the shuttered dimness of his small apartment. The teacher had been using only the one small lamp to correct his papers by.

"Nearly midnight. You've been back in the village for almost two days now," the man said, shifting position slightly, his gaze flickering over Kakashi's face warily. "Because of the reduced class schedule at the Academy these days, I was asked to take the night shift." The chuunin was staring somewhere in the vicinity of his mouth, he became aware. Fascinated by it simply because it was usually hidden?

He watched the chuunin in return for a moment, easily resisting the sudden impulse to draw the blankets over his nose again but was annoyed to feel even that tiny touch of self-consciousness. But he mentally cursed the Godaime for taking his mask off anyway. He knew it had to have been her; nobody else would have dared. For some reason, the idea that Iruka had been watching over him while he slept unmasked began to bother him. Hmm. Unusual. His lips felt faintly chapped and dry from unaccustomed exposure. He licked them once. Felt them tingle slightly in the coolness of free air afterwards, so he licked them again.

"Kakashi-san? Are you thirsty? Or hungry?" He realized it was the second time Iruka had asked the questions only by the hint of concern growing in the other man's voice. But when he focused his gaze on those dark eyes, any concern was obscured by a mask of polite patience. He wondered what the other would look like if he was truly worried about him. Those dark eyes that could shine so brightly with emotion, brimming over with fear, distress, outrage. Would they reveal everything of the soul behind them to all... or only to those who dared to see…?

His thoughts, he recognized, were starting to wander into odd realms as the black tide of exhaustion crept steadily higher in his mind despite his best efforts to hold it off. Odd thoughts even for him. Licking his lips again, he forced himself to focus enough to answer the other man's question. "Ah... sorry. Water would be good."

Iruka rose to bare feet and padded into the tiny kitchen. He filled a pitcher with water from the sink, fetched a glass from the cupboard and returned to his side in only a few moments. Kakashi watched with avid curiosity the while, assessing automatically. The chuunin was economical and neat in his motions. No clumsy haste or uneasy fumbling. He seemed both undaunted and unconcerned by the fact that his time was considered for little better use than as babysitter to a sleeping jounin. Because he had to realize that was what his presence here meant. Umino Iruka was no fool.

Kakashi still remembered the dark, vehement fire of the other man's eyes as he protested Naruto's nomination to the chuunin exams. The passion and fear and worry that had vibrated richly in his voice. The firm determination to speak up despite the bounds of protocol.

Only a chuunin, yet he'd dared protest the judgment of jounin and, indirectly, of the Sandaime Hokage himself. So fierce, that protest… He'd known the possible consequences for speaking up, the risks of censure, yet had done so anyway. That was a different kind of bravery than the kind he usually saw… a strength of compassion that reminded him poignantly of someone else…

The subject of his silent speculations returned to his side with the glass and pitcher, scattering his hazy thoughts. The man moved well, Kakashi admitted grudgingly, if without flair. There was no hint of self-consciousness to the other's motions. Even though he had to be aware that he was being watched. By him. Of course, it wasn't as if there was anything else more exciting for him to do than watch the man anyway. And he was a pretty pathetic example of a jounin at the moment, after all, since he could barely lift his head off the pillow.

Yet he had seen no hint of mockery or pity or sense of superiority in the other man's eyes for his condition this evening. Only dutiful patience and mild concern. Was there no lingering resentment for their dispute? No sense of betrayal? Even in one who appeared to feel a responsibility so deep that he would risk the steady life and secure career he had made for himself just to attempt to coddle the boy who held the Kyuubi?

A moment of awkwardness finally came when Iruka presented him with the half-filled glass. Kakashi took it in one faintly trembling hand then smiled at it wryly. He couldn't very well drink from it lying down flat. With a softly murmured apology, the chuunin set down the pitcher on the floor beside him before slipping an arm under Kakashi's shoulders. Shifted closer and lifted him up just enough so that he could drink without soaking himself. He raised the glass to his own lips, drank deeply, ignoring the slight sloshing of water down his chin as his hand trembled. Iruka made no comment either.

To his relief, the chuunin had somehow managed to catch the loosely draped hitai-ate and hold it in place over Kakashi's eye as he leaned forward. He didn't even have to strain unduly to do it either. Iruka that was. Lifting him. Holding him up. Kakashi became aware that his thoughts were beginning to fracture and slow again, the deep weariness within calling him back into its determined clutches. Still Iruka's strength pleased him somehow. He wasn't exactly a lightweight, after all. All honed muscle and hard tendon… sinew and scar… his body weapon and tool…

Cool, strong fingers felt soothing where they brushed against his forehead. The steady strength of the arm behind his shoulders pleased him, he told himself, because it was comforting to know his unconscious self wouldn't be left utterly vulnerable.

"Would you like more water?" The quiet words stirred Kakashi's hair; warm breath washed past his ear.

He blinked. The glass in his hand was empty. Apparently, he'd been thirsty.

He blinked slowly at it again in surprise. Then it was too much effort to hold on to the glass any more. He let it slip down onto his blanket-covered lap.

"No... think... sleep more..." His words were slurring, eye drooping. He had no reason to fight his body's need. There was no danger here. No necessity for his iron will to force his body to go on past its limits… for once. He was safe. He let his eye fall the rest of the way closed, body sagging limp against the arm behind him.

He barely felt it when the other lowered him down onto the futon again as the familiar red-dark oblivion rose up and drew him back into its hungry embrace. Where the dreaded nightmare waited, dragging him down into pain and spiraling fear… how much more could he endure? Silently. Desperately. Agony gnawing at his will. The Sharingan eye in his head aching… always aching… throbbing in its borrowed socket in time with the blood that spurted from his side when the gleaming blade was withdrawn for yet another thrust… again… and again….

Until the chuunin's soft voice intruded once more. And Itachi's endless shades and the bitter blades they wielded flickered and drifted away harmlessly, dispelled even faster this time by mention of illicit games of shuriken-tag stopped in the hallways, of smoke-ball shooters confiscated and transformations gone hilariously wrong. Such ordinary things. So natural and comforting, the Academy as seen through Iruka's eyes… through Iruka…

He slipped into deeper sleep then. Resting fully for the first time in weeks. Or was it ever?

~*~*~*~

When he next woke it was to the nagging ache of a full bladder and the half-formed urge to kill the annoying idiot who currently stood in the open doorway of his apartment. The whispered argument going on there was both far louder than it should be for shinobi and annoyingly trivial. The owner of said voice most likely wrongly assumed he was using a discreet whisper to argue about whose turn it _really_ was to stock a refrigerator in some distant location with food, but the hissed words were like nails across Kakashi's tired brain. He groped blearily under the edge of his futon. Found one of the cache of shuriken hidden there and tossed it toward the door frame. On the heels of the solid _thunk_ of impact he heard a startled yelp, a quick shuffling of feet, then the sharp closing of the door before blessed silence fell.

"Barely passed Stealth lessons, did you?" Kakashi offered after a moment, slowly peeling just the right rather gummy-feeling eyelid open and turning toward the door. To his relief, someone had fixed his hitai-ate over his left eye so it stayed in place. At least... something was covering his eye. It felt considerably lighter than the hitai-ate, actually. He reached up and touched the covering with tentative fingertips. A gauze eye-dressing of some kind. One held in place by thin elastic straps. A clever solution and one far easier to sleep in.

"Kakashi-san! Y-you're awake," the blurry shape near the door said. Not in a completely familiar voice either – or the one he'd half been expecting. After another blink, the shape resolved itself into a young man in a vest with a lock of thick dark hair poking out from under a traditionally-worn hitai-ate so that it nearly obscured one eye. His mind noted that this man who was staring back at him in embarrassed dismay was not someone he knew by more than sight, but was definitely someone of Konoha and thus an ally.

"Izumo or Kotetsu?" he snapped, mildly annoyed to find he was disappointed.

"I-Izumo, jounin-sensei," the man said smartly, responding to the sharpness of his tone.

"Then tell Kotetsu out there to get lost and let you do your duty," Kakashi said irritably. "I need to get to the toilet."

The young man jumped, then paled slightly with guilt. But he turned obediently to the door, opened it a crack again and whispered furiously outside for a moment. Kakashi didn't even try to overhear the conversation, certain it would be just as mundane as the prior one. And for the moment, he was too busy concentrating on the simple act of levering himself onto his side anyway. Blood throbbed in his ears, his heart raced in his chest with the effort, body trembling and sweating slightly. He grimaced. For some reason his body was being far less cooperative this time than it had been last time he woke. Of course, last time he hadn't tried to do much more than lift a hand… someone else had done the rest for him.

And maybe this excessive weakness had something to do with the fact that his most recent sleep had been restless and broken, plagued by flashes of Itachi's flat, spiraling eyes and the gleam of endless katana blades just before they slid between his ribs again. He hadn't slept deeply at all. Hadn't dared to. Because after a time there'd been no voice curling through the dreams to dispel the terrible images with gently amused mutterings -- only the low, furious argument at the door that had strengthened Itachi's vaguely sibilant voice inside his mind until the argument became too loud and woke him, heart pounding wildly with alarm.

He shook his head slightly for his weakness, sighing to himself as the action only made him dizzier. His mouth felt stuffed full of cotton and his hands shook faintly. He barely identified the person approaching as friend not foe in time, almost going for the weapons under his mattress again before Izumo tentatively spoke his name and he remembered him.

Kakashi contented himself with shooting a cautioning glare over his shoulder. One that gave him the dubious satisfaction of making the young chuunin's face go pale with alarm.

And he did seem young. Young and untested. A chuunin from the times after the Wars ended and the Kyuubi came, he supposed. He grunted as Izumo tentatively took hold of his upraised arm and helped him stagger to his feet. It irritated him that he had to use more of the chuunin's strength to do so than he had wished. His muscles felt like half-cooked ramen; distinctly rubbery. "What time is it?" he asked gruffly, trying to recover his poise. His time-sense was utterly shot from sleeping so much and that fact added to his general sense of irritation as well.

"Uh... around four. You've been asleep for three days," the young man said, clearly nervous. "The Godaime assigned us here… er… we just... some business to discuss." Izumo waved his free hand toward the closed front door, his expression contrite. "I didn't think we'd bother you, jounin-san. I apologize for waking you."

"Forget about it." Kakashi pulled his arm away from Izumo's grasp once he was upright and shuffled his way slowly across the room and into the small toilet under his own power. Wishing silently for a different voice to soothe his faintly jangled nerves. The thin yukata he was wearing felt clammy against his skin, sweat-soaked and uncomfortable. Like his thoughts.

Kakashi paused in the narrow doorway, bracing himself there with shoulders hunched only slightly by the effort it took to remain standing. He wasn't acting like himself. He had to pull himself together. He could never let this… kid know how close he was to collapsing. "Oi," he said with careful indifference. "When does the night shift usually get here?"

"Er... not until eight," the young chuunin said. _Four more hours._ His fingers tightened on the door frame until his knuckles went white. "Is there something you need right now, jounin-san?" Izumo was clearly anxious to make amends for waking him up. Kakashi didn't care about that -- it was the odd sinking feeling the news had put in his gut that bothered him more.

"No," he said as he stepped into the toilet on shaking legs and slid the door sharply closed behind him.

~*~*~*~

When the soft knock finally came at the front door, Kakashi was only drowsing under his blankets with his face buried in the crook of one arm. He was more awake than not despite the hazy depths of exhaustion that lurked beyond the edges of his mind. It was true that he had slept more restfully the night before and felt much stronger today, but he was still very tired. Yet he was reluctant to slip back into the red-shot darkness where eyes that whirled and blades that pierced waited for him without that one voice to protect him. The Sharingan often gave far too much in its piercing clarity. But only a fool would deny the truths it revealed.

He was well aware that it was Iruka's voice that had eased the nightmares for him. Iruka's voice alone. But for now, why didn't matter. Only that it did.

At the first knock, Izumo sprang for the door like a condemned criminal expecting a reprieve. Kakashi slitted his eye open to watch, unable to keep his lips from twitching in amusement. He had to admit that he had run the kid ragged over the last few hours. Asking him to fetch the smallest things for him out of the blue purely by whim. His book, which he had been able to read for only a few moments before putting aside, brain too weary to process even it's simple phrases. Then wanting the window opened. Demanding a preferred soup from a certain stall that he barely even sampled once retrieved. Then ice chips. The window closed again. A fresh pillow. Water. Another trip to the toilet. More blankets. Tea; cold first, then hot. Less blankets.

The only thing he didn't demand was a new yukata to sleep in, though he badly wanted one that wasn't stale and rumpled. He also very badly wanted a hot bath, as his body was tense and sore from lying still so long, but doubted his ability to keep his own head above water during a soak. He'd passed on the idea because he didn't relish the idea of having this twitchy young chuunin sit in the building's small bathing room with him just to keep himself from drowning either. As a matter of fact he was getting pretty tired of the other man period. The kid fidgeted too much. Especially when the eight o'clock hour finally arrived and then passed uneventfully.

The twitching got almost unendurable then. He was beginning to wonder how the kid had ever become a shinobi in the first place, much less a chuunin.

So it was nearly eight-fifteen before the knock came and they were both more than ready for it. There was a rush of something that was alarmingly close to relief that went through Kakashi too.

"Finally! Iruka-sensei!" Izumo said as he yanked the door open and all but dragged the startled man inside. "Where have you been?"

"Well, er, good evening to you, Izumo-kun," Iruka said, glancing toward Kakashi as he struggled to toe off his sandals with the other man half-hanging on his loaded arms. "I got here as soon as I could... is something wrong?" Izumo darted a wary glance toward Kakashi and frowned before speaking again in his pitiful attempt at a low whisper. "No -- well just that he's… he's been awake since this afternoon. And… wanting stuff all the time." Izumo grimaced, then blanched slightly as he glanced toward the futon again.

Iruka followed the glance and his expression hardened slightly when he caught Kakashi's crinkled and very awake gaze upon him. "Oh? You didn't let him get up, did you? The Godaime was quite specific…"

Izumo grimaced and all but snatched half the stack of copy books out of Iruka's arms before moving over to drop them on the table with a thump. "N-no. Well, just to go to the toilet a time or two…"

"I'm not pissing in a bottle," Kakashi muttered sourly, suppressing a smirk beneath the edge of the blankets. It might be funny to see their faces if he asked for that kind of help, however, but they both ignored his comment.

Iruka frowned as he followed Izumo further inside, still grilling him. "No ninjutsu or genjutsu attempts?"

"I don't… think so," Izumo said, jamming his hands deep into his pants pockets and hunching his shoulders as he met Iruka's gaze sidelong. "I did go out to get soup once…" He flinched under Iruka's dark stare. "Er… I wasn't gone long… he was still where I left him… awake and everything…" Even the normally smart-mouthed chuunin was helpless before the teacher's disapproving glare it seemed.

"Oi. Still conscious here," Kakashi interjected quietly, dragging the blankets away from his face enough to smile disarmingly at them both. He waggled fingers at them in a friendly way just for good measure but was still ignored.

"No chakra-molding attempts that I could _feel_ , anyway," Izumo admitted sheepishly, shooting a wary glance toward Kakashi, then back to Iruka, fidgeting nervously the while.

Iruka sighed deeply and set the remainder of the books down precisely on top of the others, then took his time straightening the stack out carefully so it didn't fall over. "Well, that's good," he said with false brightness once that small task was done, apparently oblivious to the way Izumo twitched nervously beside him the while. "Since he's still alive it seems no damage was done. It would have been a shame if he'd been foolish enough to kill himself on your watch." Izumo blanched sharply as Iruka turned to face Kakashi, inclining his head to him ever so slightly as he finally acknowledged him, his expression still vaguely forbidding in it's calmness. "Good evening, Kakashi-san. I understand that you have become a difficult convalescent. You really should be sleeping, you know. It's the fastest way to recover chakra."

Scary! "Slept too much already," he muttered peevishly, pulling the sheet back up over his nose to pout beneath it, faintly stung by the indirect attack on his intelligence. As if he'd kill himself while recovering…

The dark eyes met his sulky gaze steadily. "Hmm," was all the teacher said before turning back to Izumo with a falsely bright smile. "You can go home for the night, Izumo-kun. I've got it now."

"Got _it_?" Kakashi said, pulling the sheet down again and baring his teeth slightly. Annoyed by the phrasing, but more by the odd feeling of satisfaction that had filled him as soon as the door opened to reveal the teacher. It was for Izumo's imminent departure, of course. And Izumo himself was already half way to the door. Just as eager to escape, it seemed. "Um… thanks… I guess I'll see you tomorrow night, Iruka-sensei. Oh, and you too, Kakashi-san."

"Good night, Izumo-kun," Iruka said in a tone that was still a little too pleasant.

Kakashi waved again, even though the departing chuunin didn't acknowledge this one either. "Bye," he added lightly for good measure.

The outer door closed behind the other chuunin with a sharp thump and the room fell silent. Kakashi looked back from making certain Izumo was truly gone only to find that Iruka was standing on the far side of the table watching him with his arms folded over his chest, brows lowered ominously.

"Is this your doing?" he said before the teacher could say anything, running a fingertip along the bottom of the lightweight bandage over his left eye.

Clearly derailed from delivering a scold, Iruka blinked at him slightly in surprise. "Er… yes. I got it from the hospital." He shifted and, apparently slightly embarrassed for some reason, reached up to scratch at a cheek with one finger. "You seemed to rest easier with your eye covered… and I… well, that seemed like it would be more comfortable to sleep in."

Kakashi smiled brightly at him, making the other man blink even harder in surprise. "Yes it is. Thank you."

They stared at each other for a moment more, Iruka clearly at a loss as to whether to launch into his scold after being offered such honest gratitude. "You should really be more serious about your convalescence, Kakashi-san," Iruka settled for finally, frowning at him again. Kakashi just smiled wider, perversely pleased that the teacher's instincts had won over shinobi protocol. "You need to let Izumo-kun and Kotetsu-kun and I do what we can for you without complaint. The Godaime was quite explicit about what could happen to you if you don't let your chakra replenish itself without interference this time..."

"Yeah, yeah, death." He waved a hand in the air carelessly, heaving a dramatically bored sigh. "I know my limits, sensei. That's no news to me."

Iruka's glare flared hotter and his voice rose sharply, beyond mere scolding now. "No. Not 'just' death! The Godaime said you could scar pathways so that chakra would never flow properly again. Would you risk your skills for stubborn pride alone, Hatake-sensei?"

"What?" Kakashi blinked at the other in shock, eyes gone wide, even the one behind the bandage. No. That was not the usual threat from the healer-nin. And that it came from the Godaime herself -- Konoha's greatest healer -- only brought the difference more sharply home.

"What happened to you before… I don't know what it was, but the Godaime said it could only happen to a Sharingan user… like yourself," Iruka met his stare steadily despite the hitching of his voice, even if his face flushed a little at the intensity of Kakashi's astonished return look. "She said she overlooked the danger before, and was quite upset with herself for it. But apparently you must rest and not strain yourself or attempt a jutsu of any kind during this time... or it is possible that you may never be able to form chakra properly again."

Kakashi turned his stare away from the now somber-faced chuunin up toward the dingy ceiling of his apartment. Lost, abruptly, in thoughts both grim and desperate. To lose his abilities as a ninja would still mean his death, he knew. But in a slow, tortured way that could cost many lives before his own end finally came. He had too many enemies, too many bitter foes waiting for him to falter for them not to take advantage of his crippling once the word spread. And spread it would when he no longer appeared for missions. It would also mean he would no longer be an asset to Konoha but a burden, as they would still have to protect him for the unique secrets and changes his body contained.

Unless he chose to end his own life first, of course, thus allowing his body to be disposed of cleanly and properly.

It was no wonder the teacher and the two others had been set to watch over him. He was only surprised Shizune, the Godaime's own right hand, wasn't here herself to scold him this way. But that likely meant she was busy as well. The fact that only chuunin had been assigned to him had not escaped him either. Konoha was dangerously weak these days. He was just lucky, he thought with dark amusement, that Konoha was not yet so weak that _genin_ had to be set to keep watch over a troublesomely damaged jounin like him.

The bitter awareness that his skills were critically needed at a time when he was forbidden from using them or risk losing them forever dug deep into his conscience. Itachi had even more to answer for now. His own personal Bingo Book was growing larger all the time. But some of the names in it were definitely daunting… even for the famed Copy Ninja.

"What happened while I was gone?" he demanded abruptly, gaze sharpening on the chuunin.

Iruka shifted on his feet a moment, darting worried, inquiring looks at him before moving at last to sit beside the table. Clearly unsettled. Worry lurked in the depths of the dark eyes. Kakashi watched as Iruka almost slumped there, looking abruptly tired and more than a little unhappy. Kakashi kept his gaze on him steady, his will focused.

"There was… another infiltration." The teacher glanced sidelong at him, more than a trace of anxious worry there. "They went straight for…" He paused, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he considered his own thoughts a moment, but then forged on, clearly having made a decision of his own that likely went against someone else's advice. "The apartment building where Naruto's rooms are was destroyed by an unknown earth-jutsu. Several shinobi were badly wounded in the attempt to contain it before the Godaime could arrive. Somehow she managed to stop it before it spread too far through the city..."

Iruka fell silent, his expression grave. Alarm surged through Kakashi even though he knew that Jiraiya had taken Naruto far outside Konoha to train. He now fully appreciated the sennin's foresight regarding that matter. Naruto was safe enough on the move: the old lecher was canny that way. If something had happened to Naruto himself rather than just his apartment, he knew Iruka-sensei would not have been able to remain this calm. Yet still, he realized, the chuunin had managed to mask these deep concerns from him until now. Iruka was a far better shinobi than he had previously given him credit to be. Keeping things hidden underneath… His own thoughts raced from possibility to possiblity. So many plots and schemes in motion… so many enemies… circling like wolves… waiting for Konoha to stumble…

But there was nothing he could do right now, he knew, forcing back sharp frustration by main will. Nothing except wait and let both his body and his chakra heal at their own pace. He could be as patient as stone when necessary, but events were pushing him hard now, taxing that patience. He _needed_ to be mobile soon. Jiraiya would have to be warned that Akatsuki was apparently moving far sooner than they had anticipated. And, frankly, there were none left free in Konoha who could track the sennin like he could. Yet he had to rest, or ruin himself utterly.

Shinobi had suffered. Jounin were taking double missions to cover for him, already dangerously weary. More mistakes would be made. Naruto's only home had been destroyed, and now Iruka-sensei feared more for the boy's safety. And he was stuck here… sleeping.

Frustration flared as failure loomed. Again he would let down those he cared about… friends… fellow jounin… all of Konoha… He had to recover faster. To regain his strength without hesitation. Become, once more, the deadly, precise weapon that Konoha needed most. Soon.

And the Sharingan had already shown him what could be used to reach that goal.

"Iruka-sensei," he said, sobered. The dark, troubled gaze rose to meet his, was caught and held. "Since I am confined to this apartment, I must ask you to inform the Godaime that I wish to speak with her regarding my condition."

"Tonight?" Iruka asked sharply, apparently startled by the abruptness of his request.

"Yes, sensei." He met Iruka's doubtful look steadily, all pretense abandoned. "If I promise most humbly to behave, and not kill myself stupidly while you are gone, can you go now?"

The other's gaze searched his, at first warily, then uneasily, until the teacher finally nodded, his face flushing slightly, his brows drawn into a faint frown. "Y-yes, Kakashi-san, of course," he murmured, rising hastily to his feet. The chuunin moved his hands quickly through the seals of transference and disappeared in a small swirl of smoke.

Alone, Kakashi settled down under the blankets. An empty silence filled the room. Taut and unpleasant. After a moment, he drew the blankets up over his nose, granting himself the small comfort familiar concealment gave him -- now that there was no one present to witness his weakness. Then he sighed deeply and closed his eyes to wait.


	2. Two

It didn't take long at all -- no more than half an hour -- before he heard the rapid strides of several people approaching down the hallway outside his apartment. They made no pretense at stealth or discretion at all. Which told him a great deal about how dire Konoha's need was these days. He doubted she was getting much sleep lately at all. He hid a frown as the door burst open to reveal the Godaime Hokage in all her over-blown glory, her rich brown eyes sparking angrily, her heels clacking deliberately loud on the floor. Behind her lurked her faithful shadow, Shizune, and the man he was relieved to see still in one piece, Iruka-sensei. He was mildly surprised they'd left the pig behind.

"Oi, what's your problem now, brat?" Tsunade immediately demanded, stalking over to his bedside to glare down at him even before Iruka finished closing the door behind the three of them. Shizune, as usual, did her best to melt into the shadows beside the door without using genjutsu. She was quite surprisingly good at it. But then, she'd had a lot of practice dodging creditors over the years…

"How long before I can hunt down Jiraiya?" he asked without preamble, meeting the Hokage's stern glare directly, expression flat.

Tsunade didn't even blink. "Hn. He really did spill everything to you, didn't he? And here I thought you'd relish a chance to be officially lazy and order chuunin around like slaves for a bit. Contrary brat." She narrowed her eyes at him, frowned, then glanced back at the chuunin teacher by the door darkly. Iruka swallowed hard, blanched, but held up well beneath that glare. Kakashi was pleased to see that he was sweating only very slightly. He wanted to give Iruka an encouraging smile, but that wouldn't be wise at the moment. Nor truly necessary; Kakashi had seen mightier nin than Iruka piss themselves at one of Tsunade's glares but the teacher was holding up well. He'd definitely do.

"He went underground, didn't he?" he said cryptically, drawing her attention back to him.

Tsunade stared down at him as her expression abruptly went cool and aloof. "What are you up to, brat?" But she was no gambler for a reason. He could sense the irritation and concern and suspicion swirling beneath that façade without even having to resort to chakra-reading.

"I imagine Koharu's ANBU, at least, are in dire need of help these days," he said lightly, pushing at the blankets as if to rise. "Should I dig up my old uniform and see how it fits?"

Tsunade shook her head and gave a snort, lifting one foot to press down firmly on the blankets over him before he could get them past his waist. "Ha! I have better uses for you than in that bunch, Kakashi. No, there are plenty of paying missions waiting for you once you recover. But not _until_ you recover. In a week. Or two." She flicked a finger at him dismissively, smiling down at him like a hunting dog with it's prey run to ground.

"If you want to cut my recovery time in half, give me Iruka-sensei," he stated calmly. " _Just_ him." There was a choked sound from near the door where Iruka stood and a startled gasp from Shizune, but Tsunade just continued to stare down at him with a small smile dancing on her lips, her amusement clear.

" _Mou_ , brat, I always knew you had more in common with that old fool Jiraiya than you should; I don't ask my shinobi to whore themselves unless it's _important_ , you know." Her words were flippant, but her gaze pierced him, searching. He didn't waver, holding her gaze steadily. He knew what he needed and Iruka was it. He could feel chakra swirling around him but deliberately didn't attempt to read it. A transparent test. After a long while, Tsunade's gaze seemed to soften slightly, even as her expression remained dubious. "Hmm. You're serious. What do you want him for?"

Kakashi glanced away at last, looking toward the low table with the stacks of student copy books on it, the simple tools of a school teacher spread around them -- a _shinobi_ school teacher. "To break the illusions."

Tsunade crouched down beside him then, and her hand darted out, cool fingers cupping his chin. She turned his face back toward hers with easy strength, not that he resisted her at all. Not even he was that reckless. She peered deeply into his uncovered eye for a moment before pushing the bandage aside and staring intently into the Sharingan one as well. After a moment she looked away toward the window behind him, tiny wrinkles appearing on her brow as she fell into deep thought while still holding firmly onto his chin. He didn't try to pull away but waited patiently. She seemed utterly unaffected by the Sharingan's hypnotic effect. He had consciously slowed the flow of chakra to it, but it wouldn't surprise him at all if she was at least partially immune to it anyway.

"Whatever it was the Uchiha criminal used on you and that boy -- "

"Mangekyou Sharingan."

Her gaze jerked down toward him again, going hot and furious for an instant. "Was it? Eh, well no wonder you're flat on your ass again. Breaking the cycle of illusions is key, but then I'm sure you've figured that out already." Her gaze softened slightly, almost going fond. Almost. He nodded once and she jerked her head toward the doorway. "He helps, eh?"

"His presence is… ordinary," Kakashi said quietly. He knew it would wound the chuunin to hear it stated in that way but he also knew that Tsunade would understand the underneath. An ordinary that managed the extraordinary with its subtle ability to dispel the most persistent of elite jutsus. He could hear Shizune whispering urgently to Iruka somewhere in the background, but couldn't focus his attention to overhear her without forming chakra. Which would be a truly stupid thing to do with Tsunade right there and her good will on the line. But he wanted to. Because Iruka was starting to look more than a little distressed frozen there in Shizune's so-practical clutches.

Tsunade sighed deeply, shook his chin gently as if she'd sensed his thoughts drift. "I shouldn't have let you provoke me that day, brat. You're too good at that; _and_ too stubborn. You should have rested sooner and avoided all this." She frowned at him for a long moment, gaze searching his face, studying him again. "Well, five days solid down-time without chakra use once you woke up was the barest minimum. Knowing you, I padded the order, of course." She released his chin at last, rising slowly to her feet and smiling down at him wryly. "But if you think he can speed things up, consider him yours. I'll be back in two days to see how things've progressed."

As he adjusted the bandage back over his left eye, there was a sharp gasp from near the door. "G-godaime-sama, you can't be serious…" Iruka protested weakly, lifting a hand toward her, his face gone stunned and pale with shock. Shizune caught his arm and started whispering furiously in his ear again which made Iruka flush again even as Tsunade swung around to grin at him broadly.

"Oh, but I'm quite serious, sensei. Consider yourself assigned to Kakashi for the next week, Umino Iruka. Your duties are the same as they were before; keep him from using chakra and make sure he gets plenty of rest," the Godaime said, jerking a thumb sharply back toward Kakashi. "I'd rank this at least an A-Class mission, so don't think you're getting off easy here, Umino-kun," she added with a grimace that turned into a falsely encouraging smile. "Make him better soon."

Iruka flushed even brighter. Gaped at her. "But… but… m-my classes… the mission room…" he finally managed.

"We'll find someone else to take over, don't worry!" the Godaime said airily and breezed past the stunned teacher to the door, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder as she passed. Iruka staggered back into the empty shelves beside the doorway, blinking helplessly at first Tsunade and then Shizune as they swept out. Shizune paused a moment to bow to them both, a weak, faintly apologetic smile on her face. Then they were gone.

Iruka stared at the closed door - mouth hanging partly open, eyes dazed - for a long moment before turning to face him at last. Kakashi had already propped himself up on his elbows the better to view the explosion he was certain was coming.

The other did not disappoint. "What the hell does it mean I'm 'assigned' to you?" Iruka snapped, glaring at him with face flushed and fists clenched. "To _you_?"

"Of course," Kakashi grinned at him brightly, determined to change the tone of their interaction from now on. Lightening the atmosphere between them again was the only way to be certain he would get what he needed. "She says I'm to avoid using chakra at all costs and that would be impossible with those other idiots here; I was about to use _kage bunshin_ just to get away from that one's twitching." He gave a small roll of his eyes to show just how amazingly patient he had been.

"Other idiots?" Iruka continued to glare at him, jaw taut, eyes bugging slightly, hands fisted at his sides. Kakashi thought he could even hear teeth grinding all the way from over here. "Are you implying that I'm an idiot as well?" Iruka murmured dangerously, eyes narrowing.

Kakashi grinned cheerfully even as he mentally kicked himself for the slight misstep, then gave a careless shrug. "No. I meant those _other_ idiots."

"Izumo and Kotetsu," Iruka confirmed tightly, still bristling.

"Of course it's them I mean. I don't think you're an idiot, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi said mildly, smiling as placatingly as he knew how. "Far from it."

Iruka folded his arms over his chest and frowned, clearly not placated at all. "No, just _ordinary,_ " he spat, a hint of honest pain visible for an instant in the dark eyes. Kakashi sobered at once. This he had to clear up.

"You're _stable_ , Iruka-sensei," he said tightly, sharing a portion of the truth. "And I am not." Iruka blinked slightly at his abrupt change in tone, straightening in response, his suspicious glare wavering a bit as puzzlement began to take anger's place. "You're a well-balanced shinobi who has great self-possession and inner calmness," Kakashi continued. "Yours is a presence that won't incite me to break the no-chakra rule until I pass the dangerous time." Kakashi fixed him with his most earnest look. "I _need_ you here, Iruka-sensei. _Just_ you."

Iruka blinked at him for an instant, then his expression started to soften into something like understanding touched with a glimmer of some other emotion. He could almost see the thoughts race through the other's mind; a genius shinobi being forbidden to mold chakra -- something he'd been trained to do from almost the first moment he'd been able to comprehend speech – was a difficult, almost impossible, demand. Kakashi stared into those eyes, so dark and deep and filled with compassion. Felt an odd heat rising in his skin, and knew he had to turn the moment before it became too uncomfortably… warm. Looking away and letting a mostly-vacuous grin return to his face Kakashi said, "Besides, you heard the Godaime's orders; it's not like you have any other duties for the time being. Lucky! You're assigned to me!" He canted his head toward the kitchen and made sure to throw in a smirk. "So I think breakfast in bed is in order, don't you?"

Fresh irritation flashed through the chuunin's gaze and he saw that it had most effectively wiped out that emotion that might have turned to pity if he'd allowed it to grow. Pity he would not stand for. But there was a flicker of something else there now too that sent a start through him. Amusement. _Mou._ That wouldn't quite do either...

"Of course, maybe a wash would be best first," Kakashi settled back down on his pillow, folding one arm behind his head with deliberate nonchalance. The other he let fall slack on his chest. Not foolish enough to leave himself _completely_ open for what he was going to say. He sighed with exaggerated wistfulness. "I've always wanted one of those thorough, careful sponge-baths from a pretty nurse..." He grinned then, letting his eye crinkle nearly shut. After a short, startled delay, there was a sharp sound of outrage from the other man. Almost a squawk. He hid a triumphant smile under a blandly surprised expression and let his lid flicker open so that he could better view the now red-faced chuunin. Ah. He'd played it perfectly. The amusement was now gone too.

"A pretty...?! Wh-what the hell kind of _perverted_ things do you think are going to go on here?" Iruka ground out, eyes gone faintly wild, body tense. He even shook a fist briefly in Kakashi's direction. "I've been assigned to you to make certain you don't strain yourself, not… not… be your plaything!"

"Assigned, yes. But that still means you take my orders don't you, sensei?" Kakashi didn't hide the smirk at all.

Iruka spluttered furiously, looking in that instant as if he were about to launch himself at Kakashi's throat. And yet the jounin sensed no killing intent from the other -- even though Iruka was glaring daggers at him and even huffing slightly in his outrage. If he didn't know better, he'd think the man headed for a stroke from the ruddy color of his face alone. But Iruka was a teacher of precocious shinobi children, after all, and as Tsunade herself had said, he, Kakashi, could be a provoking, infuriating brat at times. Like now. He watched, impressed, as Iruka got himself back under control with just a few deep breaths.

Because it was best to get a specialist in these kinds of situations, after all. This was a serious risk he was taking with one of Konoha's most valuable assets; his own jounin skills. And so he needed someone who wouldn't let him succeed at ruining himself _despite_ himself. If anyone could rein in a 'misbehaving student' like him it would be Iruka. It was the perfect solution, he thought smugly.

He deliberately ignored the sardonic little voice in the back of his head that mocked him for inventing a logical explanation that had nothing to do with the real reason why he hadn't risked going back to sleep without Iruka present earlier. Fear.

He let himself be smug instead, thoroughly convinced he'd chosen his guardian conscience well. However, his choice was currently pacing in the narrow strip between kitchen and table, arms folded over his chest, expression dark, and was still shooting little sharp, annoyed looks toward him. Kakashi let his smile fade and brought his arm down, tucking both of them under the blankets again in an attempt to look as harmless as possible. It wouldn't be enough, most likely, but it was worth a try.

Iruka came to an abrupt stop. Turned to face him, his gaze gone stern again. "Rules, Kakashi-san," he said firmly, raising a warning finger at Kakashi. "I may be assigned to… to _you_ for now, but we're going to have rules. First, I'm not here to pander to your every whim..."

Kakashi let his face fall into a small frown and hunched his shoulders slightly. "Iruka-sensei, I'm thirsty."

Iruka turned automatically toward the kitchen sink. His hand had reached for the pitcher on the counter and he had the water running before his back stiffened. Then he shot a distinctly annoyed glare at Kakashi over his shoulder.

"You mentioned a bath?" Iruka said with dangerous calm as he shoved the pitcher under the stream and let it fill. Kakashi grinned sheepishly as he wondered if he'd pushed too far too fast. Lifting himself up on his elbows again, he tried his best to look innocent. That failed utterly, of course. When Iruka slapped off the faucet and turned toward him with the pitcher clutched in both hands, he was wearing a tiny twist to his lips that made Kakashi rapidly re-estimate his tactical position. Which was bad.

"Er… Iruka-sensei… invalid here?" He tried again to look meek and harmless. "Thirsty?"

"Of course, Kakashi-san," Iruka said with perfect politeness, hooding his gaze and coming to kneel at the side of the futon with controlled grace. Kakashi looked up at him, hands splayed behind his back, his grin fixing on his face as he kept a wary eye on both Iruka and the pitcher.

"Oh, your glass is over there, is it?" the other man said, his expression suspiciously serene as he nodded toward the windowsill above the head of the bed. Kakashi blanched as Iruka rose up and leaned forward across both him and the futon to reach for the glass, the full pitcher tilting dangerously in one hand. Right above him.

He felt a splash of water strike him square in the middle of his chest at the gap in his yukata. "I-Iruka-sensei! Cold!" He caught just a glimpse of wickedly dancing eyes as Iruka paused above him, then he was quickly shifting his weight onto one hand and reaching up with the other hand to stabilize the pitcher before the other man could pour it all over him right there on the futon. Wet futons were never the same once they dried out and he was rather fond of this one. It was the only one he had, after all. Something else that Iruka was going to be a tad annoyed over, he realized suddenly, looking into the man's dark eyes from a little too closely now. The thought of witnessing Iruka's discomfit over it made him grin a bit in anticipation, however. Which, of course, Iruka took the wrong way.

They were almost chest to chest, but Iruka was looking down at him without flinching at all, that untrustworthy smile fully visible now. It was even scarier from close up. "Oh, I'm sorry, Kakashi-san," the chuunin asked softly, lips twitching the tiniest bit as the dark eyes went ominously flat. "Aren't you thirsty any longer?"

Kakashi grinned cheerfully back at him, careful to keep the pitcher balanced even though Iruka hadn't yet released the handle. "Oh, I'm still thirsty," he drawled. A flash in Iruka's dark eyes warned him that he was instants away from a very cold dousing, but instead, to his surprise, the chuunin leaned back on his heels, taking the pitcher with him. Kakashi heaved a small sigh of relief and let his eye flutter closed for an instant.

A fresh glass was thrust abruptly into his still-cupped hand. His eye flew open in time to see a stream of water pour with perfect control straight from the pitcher held at shoulder-height into the glass. Kakashi followed the bright stream up to it's source until he caught and held Iruka's narrowed gaze again. The water stopped pouring exactly when the glass was full. Not a single drop escaped to splash him.

"Your water, Kakashi-san," Iruka murmured graciously, bending to set the pitcher down on the low table behind him. He hadn't even used any jutsu for the trick. Kakashi was impressed despite himself. He stared at the chuunin's bent head until the man turned back to face him again. Then he saluted him with the glass and began to drink.

"You know... Shizune-san was telling me that masturbation would be good therapy -- stimulating your base chakra point without closing it," Iruka announced quite calmly and Kakashi choked on that first mouthful of water, spraying a good part of it all over his own chest and hand. Iruka just watched him gasp for breath, a small twitch back on his lips as he folded his hands demurely in his lap. "But then full-body massage could do the same thing too, she said."

Kakashi could only blink at him in shock as water dribbled off his chin. "She said that… to you. Shizune did." Even more shocking, of course, was the fact that Iruka had repeated it to him. With suspiciously perfect timing.

"Yes. While you were bargaining with the Godaime for my… services." That one was a little too sharp for comfort.

Kakashi stared into decidedly cool dark eyes then, unsettled and beginning to think he'd made a serious mistake until he thought he caught a glimmer of amusement buried deep beneath the frost. Iruka was teasing him, he realized suddenly with an inward surge of glee -- if there was disappointment there too he deliberately ignored it -- but it would be no fun to let the chuunin sensei know he was on to it already, of course.

"Hmm. She might be right," Kakashi said, wiping his wet chin on his sleeve as he pretended to hesitate over the idea. "I'll take this yukata off so you can test one of those out right away…"

A hint of red crept along the man's cheekbones at last. But he held his calm pose admirably anyway, Kakashi noted with an inward grin. "Er… Not right now, I think. You were right, Kakashi-san," Iruka said, leaning back and wrinkling his scarred nose ever so slightly. "You really do need a bath."

"Pretty nurse's sponge bath time?" Kakashi said, waggling his eyebrows at the other man hopefully. "You've seen Naruto's Sexy no Jutsu, ne? I want one just like that but with red hair..."

Abruptly the flush deepened and spread over the other man's nose in record time. "I don't think so!" Iruka hissed, glaring, hands fisting on his thighs, his teacher's poise utterly shattered at last. Which was quite a reward for a brat like him, Kakashi mused, pleased. He could quite possibly get addicted to drawing that kind of reaction from the other man, a tiny part of him warned. Which might be dangerous. So of course he couldn't resist pushing again.

"No sponge bath?" Kakashi tried his best to look mournful.

"No, no 'pretty nurse', you pervert!" Iruka snarled, cheeks decidedly red now.

Kakashi grinned with barely suppressed glee. "Ooh, sponge bath!"

Iruka glared at him viciously for a moment before grinding out the words, "I should have just poured the whole pitcher over your head and called it done, shouldn't I?"

Kakashi laughed softly and shook his head. "It's better you didn't, sensei. Not a very good idea to soak the only futon in the place on the first night. Where would we sleep then?"

Iruka blanched. "We?"

He shrugged, watching from the corner of his eyes with carefully hidden amusement. "You're welcome to share the bed with me… just to sleep, of course." He hadn't thought the other man's face could get any redder. He was agreeably satisfied to find he had been wrong. Iruka's shoulders shook faintly with tension and his dark eyes went very wide for a moment. For an instant he seemed almost frightened… Kakashi frowned slightly as the impression passed, leaving Iruka looking only affronted and exasperated. And a little more wary.

"I don't think so, Kakashi-san," Iruka said with careful precision as he got himself back under control. The blush faded some. "Your sleep is restless and you're still recovering your energies. My chakra might disturb yours. I'll just sleep on the floor."

"Meaning if I wasn't you would?" he couldn't resist adding, curiosity piqued about that glimpse. And because he was a brat.

"If the mission required it," Iruka replied, gaze level and composed again. Nothing else showing. Kakashi was disappointed and let it show, deliberately pouting. Iruka bent his head, hiding his eyes behind dark lashes. "You said you wanted a bath… it's all the way at the end of the hall, isn't it? I don't think it's wise for you to be up that long yet, Kakashi-san."

"Eh, you don't think so?" he said quietly, letting the other man divert him for the moment. Masturbation, eh? He owed Shizune for that one. But it was funny how the teacher had held his poise until Kakashi'd mentioned wanting him to transform into a woman. He'd have to watch the other man more closely now, he vowed as a wave of weariness washed over him, startling him with both its abrupt return and strength. Yawning, he felt the last of his strength slip away as he eased himself back down against the futon. He'd been concentrating so hard on ways to make Iruka easier about staying that the sustained activity had clearly cost him. "Ah, but you're right already, Iruka-sensei." Another yawn interrupted him, his voice fading. "As much as I'd like a bath, I guess… I'll sleep a little more first." He was stronger this waking than the last, but not by much, and now his endurance had clearly passed. He let out a deep sigh. He hated to be like this, but it wasn't the first time over-using the Sharingan had left him this way.

The dark gaze that flickered immediately back over him was concerned again, teasing apparently forgiven. "Are you alright, Kakashi-san?" Evidence that Iruka was watching him even more closely now too. He really had picked well. But the sooner he was back on his feet, the better. For all of them…

"No need for 'san'," he murmured, letting his eyes close as he tugged the blankets back up to his chin. Iruka was staying. His mind looped hazily on the idea. Only Iruka. He sighed again, easing the iron grip of his will at last and allowing his wire-taut body to start to relax. His mind held on a few moments longer, despite the rising blackness of exhaustion, and whirled with odd scraps of memory. A broad grin that hid everything. A pair of goggles over dark, scornful eyes. Silver-bright hair tumbled against a polished wooden floor stained with blood.

A hand straightened out the lay of the blankets near his knee. He heard a soft sigh. "As you say, Kakashi-sa… Kakashi. Sleep well."

His mouth wanted to twitch into a faint smile, but the blackness overcame him before he was sure it had as he slipped into the gentle relief of dreamless sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

When he woke again the room was completely dark save for the muted glow of the distant streetlight against the blinds from outside the apartment building. It was deep into the night, nearly morning he thought, but still too dark to see more than rough shapes and heavy shadow around him. He had awakened in more of the manner that he was used to; all at once and fully aware. He shifted slightly, mentally inventorying his condition. His time-sense had returned too. A good sign, if past experience was anything to go by. He felt a vague hollowness in his stomach and his bladder was full, but not insistently so. Its demands could wait, he decided. Because he was comfortable in a way he hadn't been in a very long time. Nearly content.

Because as soon as he'd woken, he'd felt the presence on the floor beside his futon, sleeping. Umino Iruka. Still present.

The Sharingan had judged right. He smiled into the darkness and let his eyes close again, satisfied. Because the nightmare had not returned. This time the man's mere presence had been enough to bar Itachi's shade from his dreams.

Then the smile faded slightly.

That meant he needed Umino Iruka. For how deeply and how long remained to be seen.

But right now, he would not fight it. Perhaps that first interruption -- when Iruka's voice had intruded, shattering the red-dark illusory world -- had been enough to break the lingering effects for good. But he couldn't afford to risk it. He needed to recover fully as soon as possible.

Keeping Iruka beside him was the only way to be sure. Later he could sort out the reason why… or just ignore it all together, which was his usual way of dealing with anything that came too close to intruding into what little personal life he dared claim. He was the feared Copy Ninja, after all. Sharingan Kakashi. Genius jounin of Konoha. Most days he did not delude himself that he had much purpose beyond that… no matter what Obito's shade might whisper to him there in the back of his mind.

"Is everything okay, Kakashi-san?"

He was mildly startled to hear the quiet question come to him through the darkness. He'd thought the other well asleep.

"You should be sleeping," he said gruffly before he could think better of it.

"You are my mission, Kakashi-san," Iruka replied calmly, and Kakashi felt a brief flare of annoyance that he didn't want to trace to its source just yet. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"No," he said. Then re-thought after a second. "Yes… Toilet."

He heard the rustle of blankets as Iruka rose, then the soft sound of feet as he moved toward the table. The small shaded lamp there flicked to life after a moment, revealing the other man to him.

To his surprise, he then had to stifle a most un-jounin-like gasp. Iruka had stripped down to just his pants for sleep. He was bare-chested and bare-footed and looked nothing like his usual neat, composed self. Dusky skin slid smoothly over the lean muscle of his chest as he moved, marked in places with the pale lines of scars that all shinobi inevitably bore. Kakashi knew he was staring, but couldn't help it. The high ponytail was gone too and dark hair fell loose around the other man's face, softening the hard line of his jaw. He looked rumpled and relaxed and years younger than Kakashi knew him to be.

"Kakashi-san?" Iruka said quietly, holding out a hand to him. Kakashi blinked at it, disoriented. His gaze lifted to Iruka's shadowed one, caught there for an instant. It was almost an effort to look away as he reached up to grasp the offered arm after a moment of awkward silence.

"Didn't I ask you to drop the honorific?" He pushed himself up as Iruka tugged him to his feet, the other man doing most of the work. Heard the other man's soft chuckle in response through a faint roar of blood in his ears. It had been a while since he'd been upright, after all. A sharp wave of dizziness struck. Kakashi swayed and Iruka steadied him with a quick grasp on his other arm as well.

"Sorry. Habit," the other man murmured, then slipped an arm around his waist. Kakashi let his head sag forward as he fought the shaking of his knees. He really had been flat too long. His racing pulse rang hollowly in his ears and his muscles felt like water. His chakra was probably still too weak to supplement his faded strength, but... "Don't try to shape chakra; just lean on me," Iruka said sharply, frowning. His lips twisted ruefully. Caught!

"As you say, sensei," Kakashi gasped, sweating lightly already with the effort of keeping his balance. The arm around his waist was steady and warm through the clammy yukata. Iruka shot him several sidelong looks as he guided him slowly toward the toilet, a small, worried line just visible between his brows. Kakashi went with him gratefully. Now that he was upright, his bladder was being more vocal in its demands for relief.

"You haven't eaten for days either, you know," Iruka said, his tone mild. "Your reserves are naturally low." It was nice of him to try and make an excuse for pathetic him, he supposed, but Kakashi just grinned wryly as Iruka went on. "I'll fix you something nourishing right away."

They reached the doorway of the toilet at last and Iruka paused, letting Kakashi grip the door frame for balance as he pushed the door open. Kakashi glanced sideways at him through the white fall of his own unrestrained bangs. "There's no food in my kitchen," he warned sheepishly, catching that dark gaze for a brief instant. There was an odd look in it, he thought, something he wasn't sure how to interpret in the poor light. Or maybe it was just him… seeing things. He caught a glimpse of Iruka's lips twisting into an amused grin. He found himself staring. So warm, that smile...

"There is now," Iruka assured him as he slid his arm away. Then he flushed slightly as he asked, "Will you… be okay in there alone?"

Kakashi nodded once. Iruka stepped back, letting him stand completely on his own. His fingers went white-knuckled on the door frame. He'd managed twice just that afternoon after all… He closed his eyes briefly to gather his fading strength. His head was still swimming slightly, and his pulse was high, but he wasn't sure it was just because he'd been lying down for so long anymore. It was good the room was so dark. Iruka's body had felt warm and soothing pressed against his like that as they walked. He hadn't been so aware of another's half-dressed state in a long time. Far too long…

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Iruka asked again, that worried line on his brow grown deeper.

"Yes, sensei," Kakashi said, making himself step inside the toilet chamber and grab the door. He was steady enough holding on to things. Iruka waited until he had shut the door behind him to say in an amused, but faintly scolding tone, "Don't lock it behind you, please. If you fall head-first into the bowl, I'd rather not have to break it down in order to drag you out before you drown."

Kakashi sagged back against the inside of the door, eyes rolling shut, head drooping, mouth falling open as he panted slightly for breath after. A faint hint of earliest morning light was coming through the tiny window set high in the wall behind the toilet itself. It was enough so that he had been clearly able to see himself in the mirror above the sink before he closed his eyes. He let out a soft, rueful laugh.

Then, "Yes, sensei," he repeated calmly, if a little breathlessly. Well aware he wasn't going to get his business in here done any time soon given the hard-on he was sporting. Ah well. He'd just have to wait and hope Iruka didn't succumb to a fit of worry and try to break the door down after all…

Kakashi tilted his head back against the door, wearily content to listen to the quiet sounds Iruka was making as he started to move around in the room outside. He knew the other was being deliberately noisier so as not to arouse his training. He appreciated the other's thoughtfulness. Because it did help. But after a moment he became aware that _other_ things still weren't calming down. Instead, they seemed even more insistent. He dropped one faintly trembling hand to the front of his yukata, thoughts whirling, breath coming shorter. Shoved the robe aside after a moment's hesitation and gripped his erection, biting his lip to subdue the soft hiss that surged from him at the contact.

He was leaking pre-come already, he found to his vague dismay. Thin and slick. It wasn't a condition he was used to finding himself in. Perfected chakra control at his level pretty much precluded spontaneous erections. He'd long ago grown used to that fact. But he was forbidden from molding his chakra for now. His balls even ached slightly, drawn up hard as if he were cold. But he wasn't cold. He was warm. Hot. Especially in the places where Iruka had touched him.

Iruka… Kakashi listened to the sounds beyond the door, hand moving slowly on his length at first, then building up speed. Breath catching, blood surging, knees trembling, he stroked himself. He spread his free hand wide against the door behind him when his back arched, hips thrusting forward, trying to steady himself. Teeth bit harder into a sore lower lip, barely stifled a groan as his balls clenched impossibly tighter. His own hand clenched tighter. So hot and warm and slick. Moving… faster… His mind wandered feverishly… those dark eyes… the amused smile… the steady concern… His mind whited out for an instant as his cock spurted over his fingers, hot semen splashing on his belly, his hand, his chest in endless, heavy pulses of relief.

When it was finally over, he sagged against the door, breath coming decidedly fast now and trying to muffle the sound as best he could. Ah. So that _was_ the other reason he'd wanted the man around after all…

Kakashi let his hand fall away from his own cock. Aware that his fingers were sticky with his release. Semen was trickling slowly down the smooth muscles of his stomach too, making his skin itch slightly. He reached for a hand towel on the rack by the sink and roughly scrubbed his skin and hand clean. But he couldn't erase the distinctive scent from the air.

That scent taunted him. Made his mind whirl with consequence and shame. Because he'd jerked off thinking about the man he'd all but blackmailed into taking care of him during his recovery. That was low even for him, he had to admit. But then it had been a long time since he'd fantasized about anyone other than a fictional character; _Icha Icha Paradise_ being the only outlet he'd allowed himself in that regard for years. One couldn't come to care too much about two-dimensional characters in a book, after all. You couldn't fail them… and they never died in front of you when you were helpless to do anything about it… one's most precious people…

He dropped his face into one hand, breath shuddering out of him as he wrenched his thoughts away from the grim path they were threatening to travel. The situation was pathetic enough as it was without him getting maudlin over events long past.

Shizune's advice to Iruka echoed mockingly in his head. Good therapy, eh? Well, it had better be. Without being able to mold his chakra, the more difficult task ahead of him now would be to keep Iruka from discovering this new… weakness.

Pushing himself away from the door on unsteady legs, Kakashi set about to do the business that had brought him this brief privacy in the first place. Now that he was able. He had to get himself out of here before Iruka grew too concerned, after all.

But he had the distinct feeling this wouldn't be the last such trip to the toilet he'd make in the days ahead.


	3. Three

Kakashi swayed unsteadily in the doorway to the toilet, gripping both sides of the frame tightly for support as he waited for yet another wave of light-headedness to pass. The deep quiver of exhaustion now wracking his muscles left him wondering if he dare start his return to the futon alone. His knees felt rubbery. He shouldn't have lingered so long in there; it seemed he wasn't quite ready to be upright for prolonged stretches of time. However, certain... matters had demanded proper attention. He'd done what needed doing as quickly as possible but still it looked like he'd passed his current limits. And then some.

He'd probably fall flat on his face if he let go of the doorway, he mused wryly. And that would doubtless impress the chuunin set to watch over him. But not in the way he'd prefer, of course.

Lips twisting wryly for his predicament, he managed to salvage a miniscule amount of his badly-battered ninja's pride by doing a careful survey of the apartment around him.

Real dawn had just begun to touch the space with its growing glow through the worn blinds, but most of the light still came from the lamp on the low table in the middle of the room. It somehow gave the normally stark place a new, almost homey look. Or maybe it was just that the room no longer seemed quite so... empty. His gaze settled on the low table in particular. Student copy books were stacked next to it in several neat piles and a half dozen loosely-tied scrolls were scattered over the surface along with a pen or two. His gaze shifted to the rumpled travel mat and blanket that lay on the far side of the room between his own futon and the corner desk. A small mission-pack sat there as well, obviously containing some of Iruka's personal things. It was amazing how cluttered his small apartment seemed with even that tiny bit of disorder; he had few possessions and usually kept what there were of them put away. That was hardly possible now with the addition of a roommate. Even one as self-effacing as Umino Iruka.

It hadn't been his idea in the first place to have chuunin camp out at his place. He'd just tried to make the best of it by minimizing his risks while also optimizing conditions for a swifter recovery. And if that covered jerking off silently in the toilet while thinking of a certain dark-haired chuunin, so be it.

Kakashi shifted his gaze toward said dark-haired chuunin at last. Iruka was working quietly in the miniscule kitchen. He had his hair tied up and his shirt back on again, Kakashi noted -- and he wasn't entirely sure if it was disappointment or relief he felt over the fact. The kettle and a couple of pots were already steaming atop the small stove and he'd caught the rich scent of miso in the air as soon as he opened the door. His stomach rumbled; the sound was startlingly loud in the early-morning silence.

Iruka had glanced over from his stirring of a pot as soon as the door opened. A slight frown of concern touched his face as Kakashi lingered there, but it changed to a small smile as soon as the teacher heard the unruly noise his guts made.

"Ah," the other man said as he set down the spoon. "It's good the soup is ready then." Then Iruka crossed the room to his side.

Kakashi kept his expression neutral and accepted the silent offer of support without protest, draping one arm over the other man's shoulders and letting him guide him slowly back toward the futon. Iruka's shoulders were firm, his arm steady. Warmth crept through him again from the contact with the other man and he had to work to fight down his body's reaction. Self-awareness was highly overrated, he thought wryly as formerly sated parts began to tingle again significantly. Especially when he wasn't allowed to form chakra to deal with the consequences.

The other man glanced sideways into Kakashi's face as they shuffled along, the lingering amusement fading from his lips as he noted Kakashi's blank-faced silence.

"I'm sorry, but the rice will be a bit longer yet," Iruka murmured. Kakashi just nodded, his attention catching on that glance despite himself. Iruka's lips looked quite nice when he spoke, he noted. Well-shaped, if a little thin. From this close he could see a slight puffiness on the left side of the lower one that made him wonder if Iruka didn't chew his lip from time to time.

His stomach growled again as he caught himself staring at that place on Iruka's mouth. He felt starved. And wondered if he'd find a hint of blood if he stroked his own tongue just _there_. The tingle in his groin nearly became a surge and he stumbled slightly then, his body heating further as Iruka's arm tightened around him in support.

No, thinking about how the chuunin might _taste_ was definitely not helping matters.

He firmly shifted his gaze away to stare down at his own shuffling feet. Was relieved to note that he wasn't tenting out his yukata -- yet. Forced himself to focus on his own shockingly uncooperative body and the effort it took to move one foot after the other without incident. It helped rein in his groin's eager reaction. Somewhat.

Two more steps and they reached his bed at last. He slumped back down on the futon with a sigh, letting his arm slip away from Iruka's shoulders without clinging, painfully aware of the low, betraying tremble in his muscles that he was certain the other man had already felt. He was close to collapse again, his head swimming, the Sharingan behind its bandage throbbing heavily in warning as he sat on his bed. Tsunade had not been exaggerating the danger at all. He'd drained himself nearly to the end. But had he grossly overestimated his ability to recover? Because at this rate it could take him weeks to return to duty-readiness. He sighed.

"You were up too long yesterday is all," Iruka said, the low words echoing the direction of his own thoughts with uncanny precision as Iruka slid another pillow behind him to lean against. "And you need to eat; don't be too discouraged." The other man leaned back in his crouch to grab Kakashi's legs and help him swing them the rest of the way onto the mattress before drawing the blankets back over them. Iruka's every move was brisk and efficient with only the necessary amount of contact. Still Kakashi burned beneath his touch. It was a measure of how weak his control had become that he finally had to wind his hands in the blanket to keep from reaching for the other man.

Brat or no, he wasn't going to try to kiss Iruka now. That might get him a whole pot of soup dumped over his head. Or a kunai in the gut. Neither option was very appealing. He refused to speculate about any other responses for the moment. Those kinds of thoughts were risky when one was restricted to bed and limited to wearing a yukata and little else. But he couldn't help but wonder who had tasted Iruka's lips already. A woman? A man? A childhood crush? A fellow Academy teacher? He tried to remember who the regular Academy teachers were these days and failed miserably except when it came to Iruka himself.

Iruka cleared his throat softly, snapping his attention back to the moment. He immediately forced an eye-curving grin onto his own face.

"Well, you'll just have to take better care of me today then, won't you, Iruka-sensei?" he said brightly. Iruka frowned at him for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before snorting in disgust and rolling his eyes. Then he rose easily to his feet and folded his arms over his chest.

Iruka's expression went stern as he peered down his scarred nose at him. The effect was somewhat marred by the lack of a hitai-ate and the softening effect that several dangling wisps of hair that had escaped the tie holding the rest back had on his features. His shirt was only half tucked in as well. He looked nothing like his normally neat teacher-self.

"I think I still have some chakra-rope somewhere in my office… for my most troublesome students."

He most likely didn't mean it in any suggestive way, but still there was a distinct surge in Kakashi's groin in response to his words. Again. Without access to the ability to form chakra, his control was utterly shot, he realized with weary resignation. Of course, the other man should not be quite as appealing as he was. Not so soon after his little private exercise earlier anyway. No matter that it had been years -- eight? nine already? -- since he'd last allowed himself a lover. Not since Rin… He let his grin get wider even as inside him something long-buried ached.

"Promises, promises, sensei," he said in a careless way. To his relief Iruka responded to the tease by rolling his eyes again and waving one hand at him dismissively as he turned back to the stove.

"Hmm. But if I'm to get full value out of that rope, I'd better feed you and let you build up a little more endurance first," Iruka tossed over his shoulder as he moved around the tiny kitchen retrieving bowls and spoons and other things from Kakashi's meager cupboards. "Otherwise you wouldn't stand a chance." And Kakashi was glad Iruka was facing the other direction because he was certain his shock showed plainly on his face for an instant. He buried it quickly, pulse jumping again with the heat that the other man had lit in him so innocently. Or… not so. His attention sharpened, curiosity piqued.

"Na, Iruka-sensei, I never took you for an _adventuresome_ type."

"I'm not." There was the faintest hint of a flush on Iruka's face as he concentrated on ladling soup into bowls. "I just know trouble when I see it coming."

Tension flared, filling the air between them for a moment. And Kakashi wondered if the other already knew the real reason he'd taken so long in the toilet.

"Do you?" Kakashi said softly, hands lying lax on his lap, thoughts throbbing dully inside his skull in time with his gifted eye. "Ah. I'll keep that in mind."

Iruka turned back toward him carrying a small tray that held two slices of plain buttered toast, a bowl of miso soup, some orange juice and a cup of an unfamiliar pale pinkish-yellow tea that looked vaguely sinister. Kakashi couldn't stop the eager growl his stomach emitted as he caught a whiff of the food, and a good portion of the tension eased from the air as Iruka laughed.

The chuunin set the tray down on the table beside the bed, drawing Kakashi's hungry stare. There was even a napkin set beside the utensils on the neatly laid tray, he noted. So proper. "I guess I don't have to ask if you're ready to eat," Iruka said, a more relaxed smile on his face.

Kakashi just smirked as he reached for the juice glass. Avoiding the cup of tea for the moment, he drank the juice down all in one breath, then reached for the toast. The next minutes were spent concentrating on filling his belly. First slice of toast devoured, the miso came next. Part of him was dimly aware of Iruka going back to the kitchen and moving around there, but he only focused on his companion again when the man settled on the adjacent side of the table with his own meal. Far too close for Kakashi's peace of mind.

He had to sharply rein in an impulse to touch as Iruka leaned over and set a steaming bowl of rice on Kakashi's tray. "No coffee?" he mumbled around a toast-end stuck in his mouth to cover the small twitch.

Iruka shook his head, a slight twist of commiseration to his lips as he nodded toward the teacup on his tray. "Shizune-san sent over that chakra-restorative tea blend last night. You're to drink a cup every few hours."

Kakashi sniffed warily in the direction of the cup; it smelled vile. But if it would help... He shot Iruka a sharp look as he took another nip of toast first. "Ah. So that's what she was really talking to you about?"

"Well, that and the massage," Iruka said, flushing slightly again as he sipped his own juice, a hint of tension returning to that upright posture.

So honest, this sensei... on the surface. Clearly annoyed to have been dragged out of his comfortable routine, but holding up well regardless. Still, foolish brat that he was, he couldn't resist pushing more, dimly aware of his heart pulsing faster in his chest. "Just massage?"

Iruka's dark gaze lifted slowly. Met his. Held. "Yes. Just massage." And Kakashi realized that Iruka did know what he'd been doing in the toilet earlier – and why. Underneath the underneath.

Part of being a good shinobi was the ability to keep and hold secrets: no matter how one felt about them personally. Iruka was good, betraying nothing of how the information affected him. Kakashi knew that rule as well, practiced it rigorously himself, but for some reason, today, here and now with his feelings raw and his chakra unshaped, it grated.

"A problem?" Kakashi asked as mildly as he could, voice devoid of any hint of teasing. He watched Iruka carefully from a single half-lidded eye. Emotions flickered through the other man's gaze almost too quickly to read without chakra, surprise for the seriousness of his tone at first, then embarrassment, perhaps; wariness, definitely. Such dark, warm eyes... like another set that had confounded him with their openness and compassion so long ago.

The other man held his gaze for a moment longer, a hint of something unsettled rising there just before he looked down at his meal again, shaking his head once. "Of course not. This is my mission," Iruka said, his voice hushed. It was a dutiful shinobi's reply.

A hot flare of irritation ripped through him before he could stop it, disturbing his chakra. He managed to keep his face still and his gaze bland, at least, but still Iruka's head jerked back up, his eyes going wide in concern as they searched his face. "Kakashi, are you okay?" he asked urgently, leaning forward, hands braced wide on the tabletop as if he were about to rise.

Kakashi shook his head at him the tiniest bit, inwardly cursing his chakra-constrained condition again. Well, what did he expect? There was no order restricting _Iruka's_ chakra-reading ability in effect, after all. His mouth curled into a small, self-mocking smile that he hid behind another bite of toast. The dark gaze watched him closely the while, vigilant for signs of chakra use.

"That's good then," he said calmly after he'd chewed and swallowed more than just toast. "You're a fine shinobi, Umino Iruka."

Iruka's gaze searched his again warily, so he was careful to keep his own expression as bland as possible, his attention diffused as he focused his gaze on the teacup still left on his tray instead. He'd been watching the other man too closely since he woke this time, he knew. He was being nearly as blatant as a first-year Academy student. It was rather pathetic of him, he supposed. There was no way Iruka _couldn't_ have noticed. He picked up the cup of foul-smelling tea as distraction and forced himself to take a sip. He was mildly thankful to find it tasted better than it smelled -- if only by a little. Iruka was no longer eating, he noted after a moment. The uncertain silence stretched longer between them, his attention somewhat divided by the effort it took to choke down the decidedly gruesome tea.

"Kakashi-san."

They were back to the honorific again. He looked up to find that Iruka was looking down at his hands where they were folded in his lap, his head bowed, gaze hidden.

"I'm... flattered, Kakashi-san, that there is something about my presence that helps you rest," Iruka said quietly. "But you barely know me. We've only spoken a few times before outside of duty; mostly when we were at odds over Naruto. I'm here, well, essentially by chance, on a mission assigned by the Godaime which requires me to be at your disposal until you recover," Kakashi saw his hands go to fists as his voice dropped to a choked murmur, "but I... I won't be _used_ for your convenience." His words dropped off sharply in the face of Kakashi's sudden, intense stillness, gaze darting up to watch him warily from beneath dangling wisps of dark hair.

He knew his chakra was seething, but could do nothing about it. He had been going to be fair and polite and let the teacher wriggle out of the awkward moment of awareness unscathed -- if only he'd left it alone. Kakashi unfroze himself enough to finish the last of the vile tea in his cup, all the while trying to put an iron lock on his own raging impulses without resorting to forming chakra. It was harder than he thought it would be. He set the empty cup down again on the table with deliberate care.

He'd been so good too. Shown such restraint. He hadn't reached across the table and dragged the other man bodily into his lap like he'd wanted to as soon as Iruka had sat down beside him.

He wouldn't go that far now either. He reached out slowly and brushed two fingertips across the other man's flushed cheek tracing the very end of the scar there gently. Iruka quivered slightly at the contact, but didn't flinch away. Only watched.

"There's no convenience about you at all, Iruka-sensei," he murmured. Iruka stiffened, his chin lifting slightly. Kakashi immediately cursed himself and his still foggy mind. He hadn't _intended_ to insult him...

"My mistake," Iruka said, his gaze going shuttered and unreadable before it dropped back to his own half-finished breakfast. He made no move to continue eating.

Kakashi had to stamp even harder on the urge to mold chakra then, wanting badly to reach out and see if he could sense the turn of Iruka's intent. But breaking orders given for his own health and recovery even in such a minor way would only diminish him even further in the other man's eyes he knew.

He felt more than half lost like this, as well as unsettled and ragged from the persistent weariness. It wasn't a feeling he enjoyed, this Sharingan-induced vulnerability -- no matter that it was a familiar trial after all these years – but one that just had to be endured. Though the effort it took stripped away his carefully constructed indifferent-yet-affable attitude. Which was why he generally chose to avoid others completely during the times he had to recover. For now that simply wasn't possible. Or... desirable.

Since he'd already screwed up -- badly, it seemed – he plowed ahead with the question he'd been most wanting to ask, shifting his position on the futon as he watched the other man. "I'm afraid there's no mistake, Iruka-sensei. So. Do you have a current lover who would object?"

Iruka's shoulders jerked, his gaze rising half-way toward him before stalling, darting away. "That's none of your--" he began hotly, his cheeks flaming.

"Answer me, chuunin." The deliberately cold tone he used drew Iruka's indignant gaze all the way to his again, where he caught it with his, trapping it. To his delight, Iruka didn't cringe away at all, but met his look steadily, almost defiantly even as his blush faded away.

"No, Hatake-jounin, I do not currently have a lover," Iruka snapped, his eyes flashing with angry annoyance and what might be a touch of humiliation. The manner of address was far more distant than even '-san' now, Kakashi noted with an inward wince, but he had only himself to blame for pulling rank.

"Have you had a male lover before?" he demanded, still cool on the surface.

Iruka flinched slightly but the chuunin held his gaze steadily, outrage clear. "You don't seriously exp--"

" _Answer._ "

Iruka's face went icily impassive as he almost bit the words out. "Yes, I have had a male lover before, jounin-dono."

Ouch. The ultra-stiff formality of that last response stung even more. But it was the answer he'd wanted, no, hoped for. Outside ANBU, -- where sex often happened between anyone able and alive after a mission --, he had been less certain of his chances. But now his mind had been eased on that front at least. Kakashi let his gaze soften slightly and his lips twist into a satisfied, if wry, smile.

"So it's not a preference issue then. Or is it just being outranked you object to?"

Iruka gaped at him, the icy mask breaking as his cheeks went deep red, words spluttering slightly as his voice rose. "Th-that's hardly the point! Kakashi-san..."

He was relieved by the return to at least '-san'. Smiled more broadly to show it. "I've been told I'm not a selfish lover, though it has been a while for me. Be gentle with me please."

Iruka blinked, the ice returning as suspicion flared. "You're playing with me," he breathed, his face paling, his gaze going hard and remote.

Kakashi sobered instantly in response. "No. I'm afraid I've never been more serious, sensei."

He moved then, reaching across the width of the table in one fluid motion to catch the other man behind the neck. He leaned forward even as he pulled him toward him, his mouth hovering over Iruka's for a breathless instant before crashing down atop it. Warm, moist, firm. Startled, Iruka shifted, sliding their lips together. He ran his tongue along the seam of them, found a gap and took advantage, pressing deeper inside the other man's mouth. Exploring. Searching.

Miso, of course. Iruka tasted of miso soup. His mouth was soft. Warm. Surprisingly relaxed. Time stretched as he became lost in the sensations of silky flesh and wet heat. His next heartbeat seemed to take a lifetime to come, caught between breaths.

Then a hand found his shoulder. Fisted in his yukata. Shoved at him. He let himself be pushed back but only enough to part their mouths, still leaning forward on his arm on the table, his raised hand looped tightly around the other's nape to hold himself steady against the lingering weakness of his own limbs. Midnight-dark eyes stared back at him, glazed and uncertain.

"We are both unattached adults, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi murmured, breath rough in his throat. "You can let this happen." Obviously dazed, Iruka ran his tongue over his lips, staring blankly at Kakashi's mouth, and Kakashi had to stall the urge to lean forward and take those glistening lips again. He hadn't found that bitten part yet either…

Iruka's gaze drifted up to his, pierced him despite being glazed, confused, wary. "Why me?"

"I don't know," Kakashi said, the low words drawn out of him by the echo of things he saw deep in those night-rich eyes. "Just that it has to be you."

Iruka flinched slightly, the hazy gaze clearing with a blink that sharpened it closer to normal. He frowned and pulled back out of Kakashi's hold slowly. Who let him go. Knowing he had to. His hand shook as he let it fall back on the table and he fought the faint spinning ache in his head, holding his gaze steady on Iruka. He could almost see the other man putting up a wall. Withdrawing. Shutting him out. And suddenly all the energy he'd expended since waking seemed pointless and wasted. Exhaustion seeped higher.

"This isn't the time for this kind of… discussion, Kakashi-san. You're tired and your chakra is still dangerously low," Iruka said, picking up on his weariness immediately and reaching out to brush his hand where it quivered on the tabletop beneath a trembling arm. He fisted the hand to keep from grabbing at the other's hand, then shoved himself back sharply, letting himself collapse back against the pillows.

"Of course," he said, unable to leech the sulkiness from his tone in time. "Forgive my poor timing, Iruka-sensei." He deserved the name 'brat'. He closed his eye and sighed, impatient with his own weakness and Iruka's stubbornness. They were both free. With no commitments to others. And plenty of time on their hands. There really was no reason not to indulge that he could see.

Iruka made a choked noise of annoyance, as if he'd bitten back a sharp retort, but somehow managed to dutifully say instead, "You should finish your meal, Kakashi-san."

"Later," he muttered crossly, rubbing his forehead between his eyebrows, trying futilely to ease the throbbing ache that had sprung up there. The Sharingan pulsed in time with his heartbeat behind the bandage, thick and angry.

There was silence for a moment, then he heard the soft rustle of clothing, a shifting of weight. From much closer. Too close. He actually had to stop himself from rolling toward that presence. From reaching for the other's warmth. "Is it your eye?" Iruka asked quietly.

"Yes," he said shortly, keeping them both closed. He felt movement, then a hand caught his and lifted it away from where his fingers were squeezing the bridge of his nose. He let it fall to the bed between them as a warm palm was laid over his forehead in place of his own hand. Iruka muttered familiar seals softly and Kakashi immediately felt a gentle flow of chakra sink into the ache behind his eyes; soothing his nerves, loosening the tension, easing the strain. A healing jutsu, he recognized. A minor one, but effective enough.

"Rest again, Kakashi-san," Iruka murmured when he was done. "I'll be here to watch over you."

As the headache faded, exhaustion rose over him like a relentless tide once more, dark and inevitable. Before he slipped into it, he lifted the hand the other man had put aside and curled it over the other's wrist.

He fell asleep to the soothing feel of Iruka's pulse beneath his fingertips.


	4. Part 4

Kakashi woke gradually from sleep. This time he rose from the clutch of sweaty dreams that seemed vaguely focused on the howls of dogs and the ghost-muscle sense of running through trees just to find his apartment silent and still around him. It felt late in the day, by his time-sense. Evening at least. More prosaically, his stomach was empty and threatening to complain again. That meant it was likely he'd slept the entire day away. Which wasn't exactly an unusual occurrence when he was recovering from Sharingan-exhaustion, he acknowledged to himself with resignation.

At least the headache that had driven him to sleep was gone. On first review he felt far less out of sorts than he had the last time he woke. There had been no recurrence of Itachi's dream, to his relief, though he still felt dregs of unease in the back of his mind. Something had been stirring in his brain while he slept, but he couldn't tell exactly what just yet.

Maybe guilt. Maybe not. He hadn't been behaving very nicely before he dropped off last time after all. In the next moment, the warmth and presence of another person very near by registered on his awakening senses.

Iruka-sensei.

He opened his own eye cautiously, keeping the Sharingan behind its bandage closed out of long habit. The room around him was dim and dark. The blinds were still shut and light from the street beyond was distant and muted yet no lights had been turned on anywhere inside.

Kakashi twisted his head slowly toward that sensed presence to find Iruka lying on his back on a mat beside his bed, his arms folded loosely across his chest. Despite the twilight gloom of the room, he could see that the teacher was already watching him from beneath half-lowered lids. A vigilant guardian.

"Good evening, Kakashi-san," Iruka greeted him quietly, his expression relaxed. Deliberately so? After the harshness of their last conversation his composure surprised Kakashi more than a little.

"Good evening?" he managed to reply, his voice rasping only slightly from disuse. Iruka nodded and sat up, draping his arms around his knees as he faced Kakashi. He wasn't wearing his hitai-ate or his vest and there was no weapon wrap on his leg, Kakashi noted, though his hair was up in its usual tail and he was dressed in his uniform jersey and pants. The lack of obvious battle-gear made him look somehow younger and vaguely innocent.

"Are you feeling better now, Kakashi-san?" the other man asked quietly.

Kakashi blinked his eye slowly. "Oh my, what a leading question, sensei," he said, mostly as counter to his own thoughts. Iruka's mouth twitched toward an expression that didn't quite form – a smile? a grimace? –, but he didn't rise to the bait, maintaining his cool poise. Kakashi took inventory of himself more thoroughly, finding no major complaints other than burgeoning hunger and a twinge of annoyance over the continued lack of a mask. Being without it made his lips feel dry was all. He licked them once and rubbed them together before he replied. "Yes, a little better, I think."

"That's good. You seemed to sleep more soundly," the teacher said, his expression still neutral. "Are you thirsty?"

His rude inquiries into the teacher’s personal life had been forgiven it seemed— or at least the transgression would be ignored, for now, in proper shinobi way. The thought left him feeling faintly bereft for some reason, though he was still feeling too sluggish from sleep to really prod the other man for any stronger reactions yet.

"A little," he said, letting his mouth curve into a wry smile. "Maa, this must be a boring mission for you, Iruka-sensei, watching me sleep. My apologies."

"Every mission has its challenges, Kakashi-san," Iruka said with suspicious serenity as he rose to his feet and moved toward the kitchen.

Kakashi sat up on his own. He moved slowly and carefully, testing his reactions and his reserves with every move he made. Still sluggish and very low, he determined ruefully. He positioned himself upright against the pillows with a sigh, glad that at least his head or eye didn't immediately start to spin or throb. More progress.

He lifted his hands and scrubbed them over his face as Iruka began to made noises near the sink. His muscles felt stiff from disuse, and his body longed for motion. He could use a shave too, he noted idly. But the act of raising his arms had, unfortunately, wafted his own scent to him. Far too strong. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and forced himself to take a deeper sniff. He stank of sweat and pain and old fear. Hm. No wonder the other man preferred to keep his distance, he thought wryly.

His skin too, now that he let himself notice, felt sticky all over, and the yukata he was still wearing – after who knew how long – would probably have to be peeled off of him and then (as a kindness) burned. Yes, a bath was definitely in order. Soon.

Iruka returned and crouched beside his bed with a glass of water in hand. The other man’s expression was still far too composed. Too remote. Kakashi wasn’t quite sure what to think of this tactic yet. Equally certain it was a tactic. Kakashi looked over his own hands at the other man for a silent moment before dropping them away and giving him an eye-curving smile of gratitude.

"Thank you," he murmured as he took the glass from him, his fingertips just brushing Iruka's. They were cool from the water, but he still felt a touch of heat thread through him even at that brief contact. Iruka twitched slightly as he pulled back, his lids flickering lower over his eyes as Kakashi lifted the glass to his mouth and drank.

He drained the whole glass in a few swallows. Immediately he felt the demands of his bladder again and sighed as he passed the glass back. This time, the teacher was careful to keep their fingers out of contact, a precaution Kakashi also took silent note of.

"Ah, nature calls," he said humbly. It was so demeaning to be reduced to focusing on basic bodily functions all the time. Though getting up did give him a perfect excuse to touch the other man again... He smiled as brightly as he could. "I think my own smell woke me up this time; I believe it might be past time for that bath sensei."

Iruka's calmness faltered slightly. A flash of something stronger passed through his eyes only to be hastily concealed by lowered lids once more. "Are you sure you're feeling strong enough to make the trip down the hall today, Kakashi-san?" he asked, his tone still studiously bland.

"Unless pretty nurse-san has changed his mind about that sponge bath?" he asked, putting a hint of petulant whine into his tone on purpose. Iruka just thinned his lips and firmly shook his head before he rose to return the empty glass to the kitchen. Kakashi was careful to hide his smug satisfaction at the other's reaction. Or rather, his non-reaction. Iruka was controlling himself too well, Kakashi mused. Which meant there was a definite reation to control. Interesting.

"Actually, yes, I'm feeling quite ready for the trip, sensei," he said more normally. “I’m sure you’ll be relieved once I’m less foul again too.”

The teacher paused half way to the kitchen and ran his gaze over Kakashi sternly, as if judging his reserves for such a task himself. Kakashi felt the deliberate brush of the other's chakra. Let it pass without reaction.

“If you're certain you have the reserves, we can try,” Iruka said at last, his tone resigned. He moved back toward the table after depositing the used glass in the sink and bent down to switch on the lamp. The pool of light illuminated a frown for an instant before he smoothed it away and Kakashi hid an inner smirk again. Ah, delightful. The teacher was annoyed by the prospect.

“Toilet first,” Kakashi said cheerfully, his mood lifted by the very idea of the bath as well as the anticipation of trapping Iruka in a room with both water and his bare skin.

Iruka circled the bed as Kakashi adjusted his yukata under the blankets before tugging them away to bare his legs. He wasn’t in distress this time, but about half way there. It would be a test of his chakra-less control. Iruka stopped and waited for him to slide his feet to the floor before he extended his arm. Kakashi clasped it, looking slidelong up at the other man as he used the grip to steady himself as he rose to his feet. It took less effort than it had just that morning, but it was still taxing. His muscles trembled, and Iruka frowned, sliding his arm hastily around Kakashi’s waist before his knees could do more than shake once.

Kakashi made no comment but just smiled and draped his arm over the other man’s shoulders. They crossed the half-dozen steps to the toilet in silence, Kakashi leaning harder on the other man’s body than he truly needed to, savoring the flex and play of Iruka’s muscles against him the while.

He grabbed the door frame when they reached it and shot the teacher a deliberately steamy look from the corner of his eye. “Don’t forget to pick out fresh clothing for me, sensei,” he mumured huskily. “And a mask of some kind. I don’t want to walk the hallway completely naked.”

He was rewarded by the sight of a mild flush, hidden too late by the ducking of the other man’s head. “I’ll take care of it,” Iruka muttered, looking distinctly uncomfortable as he slipped out from under Kakashi’s arm, leaving him braced against the doorway.

Kakashi grinned and shifted his weight forward enough to make the muscles of his arms flex under the thin yukata. “I’ll be quick, sensei,” he said. “Do you know where to find my underwear?”

“I’ll manage,” Iruka said shortly, abruptly averting his gaze and backing away. Kakashi moved into the toilet with care and shut the door behind himself with a touch of barely-suppressed glee.

He’d broken some of the teacher’s stoic resolve already, it seemed. His anticipation grew. The promised bath was looking more and more appealing by the minute… and probably far less so for the teacher.

After using the toilet as quickly as possible, he washed his hands and dried them on the fresh towel someone had put on the rod since the morning before opening the door again. He grinned ruefully, mildly amused by himself. No, he really hadn't been very subtle then, had he?

He waited in the doorway for the teacher to notice him again, a small smile on his face as he absorbed the other man’s faintly annoyed air. He’d heard sounds from the other room while he did his business. Rustling and shifting and the soft thumping of drawers closing.

“Finding everything all right, sensei?” he asked after a long minute passed with Iruka still buried waist-deep in his closet. The muttered curses were amusing to listen to, but his strength was limited. They did need to get down the hallway to the bath sooner rather than later or he wouldn’t be conscious enough to properly enjoy the treat.

“Don’t you have anything other than uniforms in here?” Iruka asked, a touch of annoyance back in his tone. Kakashi grinned in triumph.

“Nope,” he said smugly. “One of the sleeveless ones will be fine.”

Iruka shot him a look over his shoulder that snapped fire. “They’re all tight.”

“So?” Kakashi said, his smile widening, his gaze as guileless as he could make it. Which wasn’t very, he had to admit.

Iruka huffed a little, but made a few grabs, then finally turned away from the closet with a bundle of dark cloth under one arm. He slid the door closed with his free hand and stalked over to Kakashi. Without a word, he shoved the bundle at him. Working to keep his grin under at least partial control, Kakashi caught it under his free arm, meekly letting Iruka slip the other over his shoulder. They shuffled in silence toward the outside door.

“Sensei,” he piped up as they neared the exit. “A mask, if you please.” Iruka shot him a dark look, then turned him around carefully to brace his back against the built-in shelves near the front door. Kakashi pressed himself back against the wood and waited. Iruka fumbled in his pocket and drew out a length of plain, dark cloth. It seemed he’d located that first in his search. Kakashi held still, his gaze hooded, as Iruka stepped closer and raised his hands toward his face, settling the cloth over his nose and mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deep, taking in the warm, clean scent of Iruka’s skin as he leaned closer to reach around his neck and tie the cloth in place.

Dark eyes flickered up as the other man worked to form the knot; met his gaze, held there. Kakashi smiled into those wary eyes and held still while Iruka’s hands finished tying the mask in place with careful skill. He didn’t catch any hair in the knot and the pressure was just firm enough – but not too tight – to make the cloth stay in place on his face.

“Thank you for indulging me, sensei,” Kakashi murmured before Iruka’s hands moved away. The cloth over his nose felt familiar and comforting. But it was a new barrier between his and the teacher’s mouth, so teasingly close. For a moment he almost regretted asking for a mask back. But then Iruka took a quick step backwards and wrenched the front door open to the semi-public hallway – thankfully empty – and the moment passed. Going mask-less inside the privacy of his own apartment was one thing, but…

The trip to the communal bathing room for his floor wasn’t more than two dozen steps away, but by the time they reached it, Kakashi was starting to wonder if he’d badly overestimated his own recovery. His limbs trembled as if he were stuck naked on a Snow Country glacier. His breath came hard and heavy with effort. And he was leaning far more heavily on Iruka than even he’d planned to, but the teacher’s steady support didn’t waver.

To his relief, Iruka got the bathing room door open quickly and hustled Kakashi inside the small tiled room, with a frown on his face and concern narrowing his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re up to this now, Kakashi-san?” he asked, arm lingering around his shoulder as Kakashi sagged back against the inside of the closed door. His breath was coming harder than he cared for as he tried to will his limbs to stop shaking. But without using chakra it was nearly impossible.

“We’re here,” Kakashi muttered, somehow dredging up the strength for an eye-curving smile. “Might as well finish it.” With a doubtful nod, Iruka reached past him to lock the door.

Still frowning in concern, Iruka took the bundle of clothes from him and set it in the high cubby marked with Kakashi’s apartment number built into the far wall. Then he located the washing supplies and bathing stool in the slatted wooden box beneath and set them out in the showering area next to the tub.

Kakashi knew the quirks of this room well. He’d cleaned off the blood and grime from many a mission inside its walls. And worked off a survival-fueled erection or two in here as well. One advantage to living in the designated shinobi apartment blocks of the village was that all the rooms and semi-public areas were well soundproofed. Especially the bathing rooms. So one could be fairly certain whimpers of pain – or moans of pleasure – would be kept from one’s neighbor’s curious ears.

Once he had the stool in place, the teacher helped Kakashi over to it, half-carrying him the short distance into the sunken area. Kakashi let him do most of the work without protest, too drained and clumsy-feeling to risk trying to help. “Please warn me if you think you’re going to pass out, Kakashi-san,” Iruka admonished as Kakashi’s head lolled against his shoulder. Kakashi grinned up at him weakly from beneath the draped cloth. “Of course, Iruka-sensei,” he murmured, biting back a groan of relief as the teacher finally helped him down onto the stool and to lean his head and shoulders back against the cool tile wall before he moved away.

The room had been starting to spin around him rather faster than he cared for, Kakashi reflected as he closed his eyes against the whirl and took a few steadying breaths. Sitting had been necessary or Iruka-sensei would have scolded him severely for falling on his face on the floor in front of him. Hardly an elite jounin thing to do, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Thankfully, he’d avoided that indignity. For now.

“Just let me run the tub first, Kakashi-san,” Iruka said, his tone faintly worried. After a moment, Kakashi opened his eye to watch him from under a hooded lid as he struggled to calm his pounding heart.

He was treated to the sight of Iruka bent over the high-walled tub. The stretch of uniform pants over tight, hard flesh was a definite bonus, to his mind. The sound of water falling into the tub came sudden and loud in the confined space, drowning out the quickened thump of his own pulse. Steam billowed up in a cloud around the other man almost at once; the heating system in this building was very good. He’d chosen this block of apartments deliberately because of it, Kakashi remembered. The chuunin paused to push up the sleeves of his uniform jersey as the steam thickened. Kakashi watched the muscles of his forearms flex under dusky skin as the teacher reached out to adjust the valves to get the water closer to the temperature he sought. Kakashi swallowed once and licked his lips unseen beneath the loose kerchief.

“It runs pretty hot here,” Kakashi warned him after the fact, rolling his head sideways against the wall behind him to keep the teacher firmly in his gaze. Iruka shot a look at him over his shoulder, a few of the loose strands of dark hair that trailed over his forehead without his forehead protector to keep it back were already sticking to his face. His scar stood out pale and stark against the steam-induced flush of his cheeks and his eyes were dark, mysterious pools under lowered brows.

Iruka turned and crouched beside him. Kakashi let his gaze track down toward him, but didn’t shift his head from its rolled position against the wall. Kakashi felt the slow pulse of lust fill him, but it was warm and easy, tempered by the drained weakness moving this far had left behind. His hands lay lax across his own thighs, his feet spread apart just wide enough to keep him stable on the stool.

“Are you certain you’re ready for this, Kakashi-san?” Iruka asked, frown deepening at his stillness. Kakashi let his mouth curve into a wicked smirk beneath the kerchief. Ah, the blatant openings the teacher left…

“I’m fine,” was all he said, surprising himself a little.

Iruka watched him closely for a moment longer, then finally nodded. He reached for the bucket and removed its contents before turning to fill it at the tub. He laid out the items he would need beside Kakashi’s stool. Soap and a soft brush. Washing cloths. Kakashi’s scentless shampoo.

Kakashi sighed and let his eye close. The Sharingan pulsed sluggishly behind its bandage, a caution. Iruka set the filled bucket down beside him with a rattling thump. He didn’t react. Then the teacher put a hand on Kakashi’s thigh, near his hand. His touch was warm. Wet from the tub. It lingered for a moment before Iruka leaned closer and fumbled at the sash of his yukata.

Kakashi didn’t open his eye as Iruka tugged the robe free. He let the other man tip him forward just enough, bracing his shoulder against his own, to drop the cloth down his back and arms. The yukata pooled around his hips, falling onto the floor. Iruka made a low noise of dismay when he realized Kakashi was sitting on it still and Kakashi just shook his head slightly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, even as a washing cloth was draped over his groin. Ah. So proper, this sensei. He wanted to smile but it was too much effort.

He did open his eye when Iruka removed the kerchief from his face. Stared into the chuunin’s still faintly flushed face from close range. The other man’s eyes were hooded by his own lids, his mouth held in a thin line, except on one corner where it seemed he had caught it with his teeth. A bad habit. It made Kakashi want to touch his lips with his own. To loosen them up and soothe the sore spot with his own tongue.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to do most of the work, sensei,” was all he said, his tone still rough. Iruka said nothing in reply, just eased him back against the wall again. The tile was warming behind him finally, the steam from the tub swirling higher around them both.

He wasn’t sure, then, if what followed was torture or pleasure. He was too drained at first to do more than simply endure as the other man tipped warm water over his near arm. Followed the water with the strokes of a cloth worked with soap. Rinsed the soap away after a moment before moving on to his shoulders, his side, his chest. His neck and throat. The strokes of the cloth were warm and soothing. The hand beneath steady. Not lingering, or hurried, but still making certain to be thorough.

It felt very good to have the sweat and the clinging sense of old fear and pain rinsed away. Even as some of his strength returned, he let his muscles stay slack, his arms and body relaxing under the gentle treatment. But slowly, inevitably, his pulse began to speed up again. Not from exhaustion, but from desire, easy and calm. Just there, building. But not into a driving urge, like before. His cock stayed only half-hard beneath the draped cloth, his breathing even and steady.

It captivated him. Intrigued him. How determined the other man seemed to keep this impersonal. There was little more intimate than washing another person. Kakashi himself had never done more than scrub a back or two as courtesy at a hot spring. But Iruka seemed to have some practice at it. It made him wonder even as he absorbed the pleasure of it.

The teacher paused only a few times in his ministrations. Once to shut off the flow of water to the tub. Twice to dip out a clean bucket of water. But he left a free hand on Kakashi always to keep him stable as Iruka washed him in the old-fashioned way, with cloth and bucket. Not taking advantage of the shower head that hung on the wall beside them at all.

Did he choose to do it this way simply to torment him, Kakashi wondered wryly, or was it just to make sure the invalid didn’t fall off the stool? Either way, he savored the stroking hand against his skin despite the soapy cloth that was always a barrier between them. Anticipated the pause and lift, soon followed by the warm sluice of water over his flesh to rinse him clean.

“Will you be steady enough if I turn you, Kakashi-san?” Iruka asked into the quiet. “Your back..?” The chuunin’s shirt and pants were damp in spots, splashed with water and soap. He crouched beside him easily, knees bracketing Kakashi’s own, and Kakashi watched him from beneath a hooded lid, his pulse heady and thick in his veins now. The other man was flushed and disheveled, more strands of dark hair clinging to his skin. He wanted to lick him. To taste the beads of moisture on his skin. Salt and Iruka…

“Hmm,” was all he managed to say in reply, lifting a heavy arm to drape it over Iruka’s shoulder. He leaned toward the other man, pressing his forehead on the far side of his neck. Exposing his back as he draped himself against him. He could feel the sharp spike in the other’s pulse against his cheek, heard the quick intake of breath, and smiled in triumph.

For a moment he thought the other man might shove him away. But he didn’t. Moving more stiffly than he had before, Iruka just closed his arms around Kakashi and scrubbed awkwardly at his back that way.

“Make sure you wash everything properly, sensei,” Kakashi murmured into his collarbone, letting his muscles go loose. Implying less strength than he actually had, though it was a near thing. Iruka leaned abruptly to the side, grabbed the bucket with a little too much haste and slopped a good portion of it over himself as he hastily rinsed Kakashi’s back free of soap.

“I’m sure you can manage that part yourself,” Iruka said hoarsely, his jaw tensing. Kakashi let himself chuckle, and brought up his free hand to brace it on Iruka’s outer thigh, pushing himself back enough to brush his mouth along the other man’s cheek as he stiffened in his crouch.

“Can I?” he purred, pulling back just enough to see Iruka’s face. The chuunin’s eyes were hooded by lowered lids, his face flushed, his mouth stiff.

“Kakashi-san,” he said, a warning in his tone.

“No –san,” he said, his gaze flickering down deliberately from the chuunin’s eyes to his mouth then back up again.

“Kakashi-san,” Iruka repeated stubbornly, his nose flaring slightly as he drew a deeper breath. Maybe to start yelling. Kakashi didn’t wait to find out. He tilted his head and pressed his mouth over Iruka’s, lips open and deliberately soft. The other made a sound of surprise, his lips parting involuntarily. Kakashi pressed closer, mouth working gently against the other’s. He didn’t insist or demand, only coaxed. Stroked slowly along the inside of Iruka’s lip with the tip of his tongue. Sleek and smooth. Felt the flutter, the brief tension as Iruka swayed slightly, gripping at Kakashi’s arm to steady himself for a moment before he turned his face sharply away.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice more ragged than it had been.

“Why?” Kakashi asked throatily, his groin feeling distinctly heavier, his pulse throbbing eagerly.

“Because I asked you not to,” Iruka said calmly, his shuttered gaze flickering toward him, hands firming on him to shift him back against the wall again. Kakashi let himself be moved. Let his hands fall back to his sides. Allowed the teacher to escape him again even as his closed eye pulsated beneath the bandage. There had been a brief instant… a chink in the wall of control… even drained as he was he hadn’t mistaken…

Iruka dropped the soapy cloth over Kakashi’s knee and waved his hand vaguely toward his lap. “Do that yourself,” he said, and rose to his feet, turning away toward the tub deliberately.

Kakashi sighed. Pouted slightly. “Maa, sensei, you’re no fun,” he mumured.

Iruka’s shoulders tensed but he didn’t turn. Kakashi sighed again and picked up the cloth. Lifted the towel off his groin and washed himself. His cock was nearly hard now, and it was delicious torture to reach beneath, to soap it and his balls and his ass clean all while staring at Iruka’s tense back. He let the cloth fall to the floor with a plop when he was done and picked up the bucket, slopping the last of the water in it across himself with a shaking arm.

“It's safe now,” he said, putting a touch of petulance in his tone. “I'm done.” Iruka glanced back, frowned and tensed to find he’d left the cloth drape off his lap, but turned back sharply and caught up the bucket anyway. He filled the bucket in the tub once more with jerky motions, his gaze dancing away from Kakashi’s groin when he returned to his side.

This time the washing was less soothing and more perfunctory. He got clean, but gone was the ease and consideration in the other man’s touch. He lamented the loss briefly, but, honestly, counted the kiss worth it. Iruka’s mouth begged for it again, held so stiffly like that, he mused, gaze fixed on it still. But he restrained himself. Waited patiently for the other man to finish rinsing each leg, each foot.

Only when the teacher emptied the last of the water over a shin, rendering him soap-free, did Kakashi lift a hand and catch his free wrist. Iruka paused. Tensed.

“I’m not sorry, you know,” Kakashi said, lips twitching at the side-ways glare the other gave him. Life. Fire. A break in that control. He savored it.

“Are you ready for the tub?” Iruka asked instead of acknowledging his words, his gaze hardening even as Kakashi felt tension snap tighter between them. He was pushing too fast, too hard, he knew, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not with the way the other man was working so hard to treat him only like a mission. Not with the taste of Iruka still on his lips. He licked them once at the thought.

“I want to touch you,” he murmured, watching that gaze flash with anger or maybe dismay, feeling the wrist in his hand jerk. “Will you let me?”

The dark eyes flared suddenly. Angry. Fierce. “Don’t you know what no means?” Iruka said loudly as he dropped the bucket with a clatter, yanking his wrist free of Kakashi’s grasp. Almost shouting.

“Try again?” Kakashi offered, grinning dangerously as his pulse leapt, ran wild for the heat finally back in the other’s eyes. His cock jumped between his legs in response. Iruka’s gaze flickered involuntarily toward the motion and Kakashi’s eye gleamed smugly at the further break in control.

But Iruka’s gaze moved right back to his at once, going determinedly icy. “Do you want to use the tub or not, jounin-dono?” he asked sharply. “Otherwise I’m taking you back to your room now.”

“I do want to, sensei,” Kakashi said, sobering a little. But only a little. He’d made definite progress there. Iruka stood up jerkily, leaned close and gripped both Kakashi’s arms. Kakashi tipped his head back, watching the flare of the other man’s nose, the grim set of his lips, the flicker of his eyes as he half-drew him to his feet. It was only a shuffling step or two to the tub, but Kakashi made sure to lean heavily against the other man the while.

In silence, Iruka helped him ease down to sit on the rim of the bath tub. Steadied him there as he lifted first one leg, then the other over the edge and into the deliciously warm water. Kakashi sank into it slowly, savoring the enveloping warmth. Iruka’s hand stayed on his arm to keep him from slipping the while. A duitiful caretaker still, despite his obvious anger and annoyance.

The tub was good sized. Almost large enough for two to use. Once he was safely seated, he twisted his hand and caught Iruka’s wrist in a firm grasp. Kept him from drawing away.

“I swear, Kakashi-san, if you try to pull me in there I will drown you, mission or not.” Iruka snapped out the threat even as the thought grew. And the teacher’s glare hot was again as he was held bent forward over the tub, free hand gripping the edge. Close, but not close enough. He stayed still in his grip, however, and didn’t try to struggle. Just waited. Daring him? Kakashi could feel the other man’s pulse sharp under his fingers, then the sudden flicker of remorse in his eyes as he realized he might have overstepped himself too far by threatening a jounin.

“But you didn’t wash my hair, sensei,” Kakashi said, pouting a little for being seen through so easily. He eased his grip enough to stroke his thumb along the side of the other man’s wrist. Despite his desire, the heat of the tub was already making him lethargic; limbs heavy, pulse slowing, energy banking.

“Well, it’s too late now,” Iruka said, his tone a touch sheepish. Then it firmed again. “Let go, please.” He did as the teacher asked, but slid his hand down the other’s wrist slowly, brushing along the back of his hand, down his fingers before he let his own drop into the water with a quiet splash.

“I’ll just have to get another kiss later, you know,” he said, his gaze drifting up to meet the teacher’s. The bouyancy of the water was easing a host of tensions he hadn’t realized he had. It felt good to soak like this. Very good.

“No you won’t,” Iruka said sharply, his gaze exasperated, maybe growing a little concerned as Kakashi kept sinking down into the water until it lapped over his chin. He stopped himself there, his feet braced against the far side of the tub. Floated.

“Don’t worry, sensei,” he murmured sleepily. The water felt so warm and soothing. Like Iruka’s mouth under his. “Next time, you’ll be the one to kiss me.”

He let his eye drift closed then, still savoring the flash of shock on the other man’s face.

\--tbc--


End file.
